THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


IN  MEMORY  OF 
CAROLINE  GUSHING  DUNIWAY 


'*X;-  > 


s  i 


PUBUSHE 


The  Life  of  John  Buncle,  Esquire 


Half- Forgotten   Books 

Edited  by  E.  A.  BAKER,  M.A. 
With  a  Special  Introduction  to    each  Volume 

Tom  Bullkley  of  Lissington.    By  R.  MOUNTENEY  JEPHSON. 

Whitefriars  ;    or,   the  Days  of  Charles  II.     By  EMMA 
ROBINSON. 

The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho.    By  ANN  RADCLIFFE. 
Caleb  Williams.     By  WILLIAM  GODWIN. 
Sam  Slick  the  Clockmaker.    By  JUDGE  HALIBURTON. 
Memoirs  of  Grimaldi  the  Clown.     By  CHARLES  DICKENS. 

With  Cruikshank's  Illustrations,  and  Introduction  by  Percy  Fitz- 
gerald. 

Black  Sheep.    By  EDMUND  YATES. 

Guy  Livingstone.    By  G.  A.  LAWRENCE. 

Old  London  Bridge.    By  G.  H.  RODWELL. 

The  Camp  of  Refuge.     By  CHARLES  MACFARLANE. 

Reading  Abbey.    By  CHARLES  MACFARLANE. 

Adventures  of  David  Simple.     By  SARAH  FIELDING. 

Willy  Reilly.     By  W.  CARLETON. 

The  Hour  and  the  Man.    By  HARRIET  MARTINEAU. 

The  Pottleton  Legacy.    By  ALBERT  SMITH. 

The  Fool  of  Quality.     By  HENRY  BROOKE. 

The  Cruise  of  "The  Midge."    By  MICHAEL  SCOTT. 

The  Nightside  of  Nature.    By  Mrs.  CROWE. 


THE 
LIFE    AND    OPINIONS    OF 

JOHN  BUNGLE 
ESQUIRE 


BY 

THOMAS   AMORY 

With  an  Introduction  by 

ERNEST  A.   BAKER,   M.A. 


LONDON : 

GEORGE   ROUTLEDGE   AND   SONS,   LIMITED 

NEW   YORK:    E.    P.    DUTTON    &   Co. 

1904 


ICAK'  STACK 


INTRODUCTION 

THE  History  of  John  Buncle  has  never  been  a  popular  book.  It  is  hardly 
possible  to  imagine  a  period  whose  standard  of  taste  and  culture  would  render 
it  popular.  Yet  it  is  safe  to  predict  that  it  will  always,  as  in  the  past,  be  an 
object  of  interest  to  the  connoisseur,  the  explorer  of  curious  by-paths  of 
literature,  and  to  all  who  have  a  liking  for  the  eccentricities  of  human  nature, 
when  conjoined  with  strength  and  shrewdness,  and  with  candour  of  expression. 
Thrice  during  the  last  century  was  the  book  disinterred  from  the  obscurity 
that  covered  it,  and  on  each  occasion  by  a  critic  distinguished  by  this  taste 
for  originality.  Charles  Lamb,  in  The  Two  Races  of  Men,  hits  off  the  book 
with  delightful  humour  when  he  says,  "  In  yonder  nook,  John  Buncle,  a 
widower-volume,  with  '  eyes  closed,'  mourns  his  ravished  mate."  Hazlitt's 
enthusiasm  led  him,  ill  advisedly,  to  compare  the  author  with  a  genius  of 
a  far  superior  order  : — 

"The  soul  of  Francis  Rabelais  passed  into  John  (sic)  Ampry,  the  author  of 
The  Life  and  Adventures  of  John  Buncle.  Both  were  physicians,  and  enemies 
of  too  much  gravity.  Their  business  was  to  enjoy  life.  Rabelais  indulges 
his  spirit  of  sensuality  in  wine,  in  dried  neats' -tongues,  in  Bologna  sausages, 
in  botargos.  John  Buncle  shows  the  same  symptoms  of  inordinate  satisfaction 
in  tea  and  bread-and-butter.  While  Rabelais  roared  with  Friar  John  and  the 
monks,  John  Buncle  gossiped  with  the  ladies,  and  with  equal  and  uncon- 
trolled gaiety.  These  two  authors  possessed  all  the  insolence  of  health, 
so  that  their  works  give  a  fillip  to  the  constitution  ;  but  they  carried  off  the 
exuberance  of  their  natural  spirits  in  different  ways.  The  title  of  one  of 
Rabelais'  chapters  (and  the  contents  answer  to  the  title)  is,  '  How  they  chirped 
over  their  cups.'  The  title  of  a  corresponding  chapter  in  John  Buncle  would 
run  thus  :  '  The  author  is  invited  to  spend  the  evening  with  the  divine  Miss 
Hawkins,  and  goes  accordingly ;  with  the  delightful  conversation  that  ensued.'  " 

The  essay  is  so  well  known  and  so  sententious  that  it  has  probably  led 
many  a  man  to  take  its  judgments  on  trust,  and  not  trouble  to  peruse  the 
book  for  himself.  Leigh  Hunt,  on  the  contrary,  in  that  charming  literary  vade 
mecum  of  his,  A  Book  for  a  Corner,  entices  one  to  get  the  book  and  read  it, 
or  rather  to  roam  about  in  its  leisurely  and  discursive  pages.  But  whoever 
has  been  so  tempted  hitherto  must  have  met  with  an  initial  difficulty,  the 
extreme  scarcity  of  the  work.  Amory  published  the  first  volume  in  1756,  along 
with  a  complete  edition  in  four  volumes,  lamo.  Another  edition  appeared 
in  three  volumes  in  1825,  since  which  date  the  chances  of  coming  across  the 
book  in  any  form  have  steadily  grown  more  remote. 

What  is  the  peculiar  attraction  of  John  Buncle  ?  That  a  book  is  merely  a 
literary  curiosity,  or  that  it  contains  excellent  passages  interspersed  amid  a 
huge  extent  of  tedious  prosing,  is  certainly  not  the  thing  to  secure  the  interest 
of  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  Leigh  Hunt.  What  fascinates  in  the  book  is  the  vigour 
and  the  frankness  with  which  a  most  exceptional,  yet,  in  a  way,  a  most  re- 
presentative kind  of  man  reveals  the  whole  of  his  character.  For  John  Buncle 
is  an  eccentric  only  in  the  sense  that  he  carries  very  common  traits  of  char- 
acter to  a  strange  excess.  In  his  love  of  good  living,  his  sensuality  combined 
with  a  pharisaic  animus  against  vice,  in  that  blind  egotism  and  portentous 
arrogance,  one  might  perceive  the  exaggeration  of  certain  national  qualities, 
with  which  the  author,  who  was  in  the  first  case  anonymous,  shows  his 
sympathy  by  exalting  them  to  the  degree  of  absurdity.  John  Bull,  at  least 
one  side  of  him,  was  caricatured,  unintentionally,  in  John  Buncle.  And  the 
sectarian  spirit  that  is  so  deeply  ingrained  in  the  national  character  is  faith- 
fully portrayed  in  John  Buncle  the  Unitarian,  with  his  dogmatism  and  utter 
intolerance,  and  his  delight  in  wordy  argument  untempered  by  the  slightest 
capacity  for  understanding  his  adversary's  point  of  view. 


6437 


INTRODUCTION 


It  is,  in  fact,  such  a  paradox  of  a  book  that  it  tempts  everyone  to  fly  into 
paradoxes.  Buncle  himself  is  so  hot  in  denouncing  immorality  and  yet  so 
immoral ;  condemns  sensuality  with  so  much  eloquence  yet  is  so  shamelessly 
sensual ;  is  so  sincere  and  yet  such  a  hypocrite  ;  so  fervent  in  his  religious 
zeal,  yet  degrades  religion  so  unblushingly  to  consecrate  his  iunholy  appetites. 
"  It  is  impossible,"  said  Leigh  Hunt,  "  to  be  serious  with  John  Buncle,  Esq., 
jolly  dog,  Unitarian,  and  Bluebeard  ;  otherwise,  if  we  were  to  take  him  at 
his  word,  we  should  pronounce  him,  besides  being  a  jolly  dog,  to  be  one  of  a 
very  selfish  description,  with  too  good  a  constitution  to  correct  him,  a  pro- 
digious vanity,  no  feeling  whatever,  and  a  provoking  contempt  for  everything 
unfortunate,  or  opposed  to  his  whims.  He  quarrels  with  bigotry,  and  is  a 
bigot ;  with  abuse,  and  riots  in  it.  He  hates  the  cruel  opinions  held  by 
Athanasius,  and  sends  people  to  the  devil  as  an  Arian.  He  kills  off  seven  wives 
out  of  pure  incontinence  and  love  of  change,  yet  cannot  abide  a  rake  or  even 
the  poorest  victim  of  the  rake,  unless  both  happen  to  be  his  acquaintances. 
The  way  in  which  he  tramples  on  the  miserable  wretches  in  the  streets  is  the 
very  rage  and  triumph  of  hard-heartedness,  furious  at  seeing  its  own  vices 
reflected  on  it,  unredeemed  by  the  privileges  of  law,  divinity,  and  success. 
But  the  truth  is,  J  ohn  is  no  more  responsible  for  his  opinions  than  health  itself, 
or  a  high-mettled  racer.  He  only  '  thinks  he's  thinking.'  He  does,  in  reality, 
nothing  at  all  but  eat,  drink,  talk,  and  enjoy  himself.  Amory,  Buncle's 
creator,  was  in  all  probability  an  honest  man,  or  he  would  hardly  have  been 
innocent  enough  to  put  such  extravagances  on  paper." 

Leigh  Hunt  also  says  in  the  same  place  :  "  John's  life  is  not  a  classic  :  it 
contains  no  passage  which  is  a  general  favourite  :  no  extract  could  be  made 
from  it  of  any  length  to  which  readers  of  good  taste  would  not  find  objections. 
Yet  there  is  so  curious  an  interest  in  all  its  absurdities  ;  its  jumble  of  the  gayest 
and  gravest  considerations  is  so  founded  in  the  actual  state  of  things  ;  it  draws 
now  and  then  such  excellent  portraits  from  life  ;  and,  above  all,  its  animal 
spirits  are  at  once  so  excessive  and  so  real,  that  we  defy  the  best  readers 
not  to  be  entertained  with  it,  and  having  had  one  or  two  specimens,  not  to 
desire  more.  Buncle  would  say,  that  there  is  '  cut  and  come  again '  in  him 
like  one  of  his  luncheons  of  cold  beef  and  a  foaming  tankard." 

The  Life  of  John  Buncle  has  many  of  the  same  merits  as  the  life  of  Samuel 
Pepys,  not  the  least  of  which  is  the  unconscious  humour  of  the  book.  Buncle 
himself  is  utterly  devoid  of  a  sense  of  humour  ;  his  heavy  seriousness  is 
something  unconscionable.  But  I  doubt  if  there  be  a  more  egregious  example 
in  literature  of  the  unintentionally  comic.  The  entire  plan,  or  no-plan,  of 
the  book,  with  its  aimless  narrative  and  irrelevant  digressions  (the  story 
seems  to  exist  for  the  sake  of  the  digressions)  is  so  absurd  ;  and  the  idea  is 
so  comic  of  the  man  going  out  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  world,  "  not  like  the 
Chevalier  La  Mancha,  in  hopes  of  conquering  a  kingdom,  or  marrying  some 
great  Princess  ;  but  to  see  if  I  could  find  another  good  country  girl  for  a  wife, 
and  get  a  little  more  money  ;  as  they  were  the  only  two  things  united, 
that  could  secure  me  from  melancholy,  and  confer  real  happiness." 

He  puts  the  case  with  inimitable  gravity  :  "  In  the  next  place,  as  I  had 
forfeited  my  father's  favour  and  estate,  for  the  sake  of  christian-deism,  and 
had  nothing  but  my  own  honest  industry  to  secure  me  daily  bread,  it  was 
necessary  for  me  to  lay  hold  of  every  opportunity  to  improve  my  fortune, 
and  of  consequence  do  my  best  to  gain  the  heart  of  the  first  rich  young 
woman  who  came  in  my  way,  after  I  had  buried  a  wife.  It  was  not  fit  for  me 
to  sit  snivelling  for  months,  because  my  wife  died  before  me,  which  was,  at 
least,  as  probable,  as  that  she  should  be  the  survivor  ;  but  instead  of  solemn 
affliction,  and  the  inconsolable  part,  for  an  event  I  foresaw,  it  was  incumbent 
on  me,  after  a  little  decent  mourning,  to  consecrate  myself  to  virtue  and  good 
fortune  united  in  the  form  of  a  woman." 

Most  diverting  of  all  are  the  scenes  of  love-making,  a  kind  of  love-making 
which  is,  surely,  quite  unique  in  literature  or  in  life.  What  coy  maiden  was 
ever  wooed  after  the  manner  employed  to  win  the  "  illustrious  Statia  "  ? 
Indelicacy  almost  ceases  to  be  indelicate  when  it  becomes  so  elephantine. 


INTRODUCTION  vii 


"  Ponder,  illustrious  Statia,  on  the  important  point.  Consider  what  it  is  to 
die  a  maid,  when  you  may,  in  a  regular  way,  produce  heirs  to  that  inestimable 
blessing  of  life  and  favour,  which  the  munificence  of  the  Most  High  was  pleased 
freely  to  bestow,  and  which  the  great  Christian  mediator,  agent,  and  negp- 
ciator,  republished,  confirmed,  and  sealed  with  his  blood.  Marry  then  in 
regard  to  the  gospel,  and  let  it  be  the  fine  employment  of  your  life,  to  open 
gradually  the  treasures  of  revelation  to  the  understandings  of  the  little  Christians 
you  produce.  What  do  you  say,  illustrious  Statia  ?  Shall  it  be  a  succession, 
as  you  are  an  upright  Christian  ?  And  may  I  hope  to  have  the  honour  of 
sharing  in  the  mutual  satisfaction  that  must  attend  the  discharge  of  so  mo- 
mentous a  duty  ?  " 

Needless  to  say,  the  lady  is  not  proof  against  such  eloquence  ;  and  the 
nuptials  are  concluded  with  a  dispatch  befitting  the  urgency  of  the  obligation. 
The  disquisitions  on  fluxions,  geometrv,  algebra  (with  diagrammatic  illus- 
trations), on  the  Hebraic  covenant,  the  rite  of  circumcision,  and  similarly 
erudite  topics,  that  take  the  place  of  amorous  small  talk,  are  equally  enter- 
taining in  a  way  that  their  author  never  intended.  The  young  ladies  are 
charming  in  spite  of  their  prodigious  learning  ;  but  more  charming  is  the 
force  which  their  personal  attractions  add  to  their  reasoning.  "  But  is  there 
no  other  way,"  asks  John  Buncle  of  an  accomplished  female  who  has  been 
demonstrating  a  curious  mathematical  theorem,  "  of  paying  £100  in  guineas 
and  pistoles,  besides  the  six  ways  you  have  mentioned  ?  "  '  There  is  no  other 
way,'  the  fine  girl  answered.'"  There  is  something  most  refreshing  to  hear 
Buncle,  the  epicure,  the  amorous,  and  the  successful,  delivering  himself 
gravely  on  the  subject  of  resignation  to  the  decrees  of  providence : — 

"  This  is  a  summary  of  my  past  life  ;  what  is  before  me  heaven  only  knows. 
My  fortune  I  trust  with  the  Preserver  of  men,  and  the  Father  of  spirits.  One 
thing  I  am  certain  of  by  observation,  few  as  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  pil- 
grimage have  been,  that  the  emptiness,  and  unsatisfying  nature  of  this  world's 
enjoyments,  are  enough  to  prevent  my  having  any  fondness  to  stay  in  this 
region  of  darkness  and  sorrow.  I  shall  never  leap  over  the  bars  of  life,  let 
what  will  happen  ;  but  the  sooner  I  have  leave  to  depart,  I  shall  think  it  the 
better  for  me." 

"  'Tis  a  very  interesting,"  as  Charles  Lamb  says,  "  and  an  extraordinary 
compound  of  all  manner  of  subjects,  from  the  depth  of  the  ludicrous  to  the 
heights  of  sublime  religious  truth.  There  is  much  abstruse  science  in  it 
above  my  cut,  and  an  infinite  fund  of  pleasantry.  John  Buncle  is  a  famous 
fine  man,  formed  in  Nature's  most  eccentric  hour."  And  with  all  its  defects 
and  its  offences  against  good  taste,  Lamb  said  emphatically  to  some  one 
who  objected  to  the  epithet  so  applied,  The  Life  of  John  Buncle  is  "  a  healthy 
book."  It  is  perhaps  a  tribute  to  the  originality  of  the  book,  and  no  detri- 
ment to  its  real  merits,  that  a  Saturday  Reviewer  called  it  "  a  book  which 
nowadays  would  have  been  dated  from  Colney  Hatch,  or,  more  likely,  sup- 
pressed by  the  care  of  relatives."  And  that  the  Biographic  Universelle 
should  run  it  down  is,  perhaps,  testimony  as  emphatic  to  its  truly  English 
qualities. 

John  Buncle  is  virtually  a  sequel  to  an  earlier  book  of  Amory's  published 
in  i755>  entitled,  Memoirs  containing  the  Lives  of  several  Ladies  of  Great 
Britain  :  "  A  History  of  Antiquities,  Productions  of  Nature,  and  Monuments 
of  Art ;  Observations  on  the  Christian  Religion  as  professed  by  the  Established 
Church  and  Dissenters  of  every  Denomination  ;  Remarks  on  the  Writings 
of  the  Greatest  English  Divines  ;  with  a  Variety  of  Disquisitions  and  Opinions 
relative  to  Criticism  and  Manners ;  and  many  Extraordinary  Actions." 
This  is  another  Unitarian  romance,  as  eccentric,  rambling  and  bizarre  in  style 
as  John  Buncle,  which  it  resembles  in  every  respect  save  that  it  is,  perhaps, 
even  less  like  any  other  sort  of  book  on  record,  and  has  less  of  the  personal 
element  in  it.  But  such  episodes  as  the  casual  meeting  of  the  author  with  the 
beautiful  Miss  Bruce,  in  a  little  mansion  set  amidst""  the  finest  flowering 
greens,"  in  a  sequestered  spot  among  "  the  vast  hills  of  Northumberland," 
a  meeting  that  is,  of  course,  the  prelude  to  a  lengthy  discourse  on  Philosophic 


viii  INTRODUCTION 


Deism  ;  such  characters  as  Miss  West,  Julia  Desborough  and  Charles  Benlow, 
paragons  of  virtue,  wisdom  and  orthodox  Unitarianism  ;  with  their  adven- 
tures in  the  wilds  of  northern  England,  the  Hebrides,  and  a  sort  of  Deistic 
Utopia  in  the  Cape  Verde  Islands,  might  have  been  taken  from  the 
pages  of  John  Buncle.  A  reader  of  the  latter  volume  might  easily  fancy 
himself  familiar  with  such  incidents  as  the  two  following,  taken  from  the 
Memoirs  : — 

"  They  were  riding  to  Crawford  Dyke,  near  Dunglass,  the  place  I  intended 
for,  and  by  a  wrong  turn  in  the  road  came  to  Mrs.  Benlow's  house  instead 
of  going  to  Robin's  Toad,  where  they  designed  to  bait.'  It  was  between  eight 
and  nine  at  night  when  they  got  to  her  door  ;  and  as  they  appeared,  by  the 
richness  of  their  riding-dress,  their  servants,  and  the  beautiful  horses  they 
rid,  to  be  women  of  distinction,  Mrs.  Benlow  invited  them  in,  and  requested 
they  would  lie  at  her  house  that  night,  as  the  inn  they  were  looking  for  was 
very  bad.  Nothing  could  be  more  grateful  to  the  ladies  than  this  proposal. 
They  were  on  the  ground  in  a  moment ;  and  all  sat  down  soon  after,  with 
the  greatest  cheerfulness,  to  a  fine  dish  of  trouts,  roasted  chickens,  tarts,  and 
sparragrass.  The  strangers  were  quite  charmed  with  everything  they  saw. 
The  sweet  rural  room  they  were  in,  and  the  wild  beauties  of  the  garden  in 
view,  they  could  not  enough  admire  ;  and  they  were  so  struck  with  Mrs. 
Benlow's  goodness,  and  the  lively,  happy  manner  she  has  of  showing  it, 
that  they  conceived  immediately  the  greatest  affection  for  her.  Felicity 
could  not  rise  higher  than  it  did  at  this  table.  For  a  couple  of  hours  we 
laughed  most  immoderately." 

"  As  I  travelled  once  in  the  month  of  September,  over  a  wild  part  of  York- 
shire, and  fancied  in  the  afternoon  that  I  was  near  the  place  I  intended  to 
rest  at,  it  appeared,  from  a  great  water  we  came  to,  that  we  had  for  half  a  day 
been  going  wrong,  and  were  many  a  mile  from  any  village.  This  was 
vexatious  ;  but  what  was  worse,  the  winds  began  to  blow  outrageously,  the 
clouds  gathered,  and,  as  the  evening  advanced,the  rain  came  down  like  water- 
spouts from  the  heavens.  All  the  good  that  offered  was  the  ruins  of  a  nunnery, 
within  a  few  yards  of  the  water,  and  among  the  walls,  once  sacred  to  devotion, 
a  part  of  an  arch  that  was  enough  to  shelter  us  and  our  beasts  from  the  floods 
and  tempest.  Into  this  we  entered,  the  horses,  and  Moses,  and  his  master,  and 
for  some  hours  were  right  glad  to  be  so  lodged.  But,  at  last,  the  storm  and 
rain  were  quite  over,  we  saw  the  fair  rising  moon  hang  up  her  ready  lamp, 
and  with  mild  lustre  drive  back  the  hovering  shades.  Out  then  I  came  from 
the  cavern,  and  as  I  walked  for  a  while  on  the  banks  of  the  fine  lake,  I  saw  a 
handsome  little  boat,  with  two  oars,  in  a  creek,  and  concluded  very  justly, 
that  there  must  be  some  habitation  not  far  from  one  side  or  other  of  the 
water.  Into  the  boat  therefore  we  went,  having  secured  our  horses,  and  began 
to  row  round,  the  better  to  discover.  Two  hours  we  were  at  it  as  hard  as  we 
could  labour,  and  then  came  to  the  bottom  of  a  garden,  which  had  a  flight  of 
stairs  leading  up  to  it.  These  I  ascended.  I  walked  on,  and,  at  the  farther  end 
of  the  fine  improved  spot,  came  to  a  mansion.  I  immediately  knocked  at  the 
door,  sent  in  my  story  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  as  there  was  no  master,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  was  shown  into  a  parlour.  I  continued  alone  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour,  and  then  entered  a  lady,  who  struck  me  into  amazement.  She 
was  a  beauty,  of  whom  I  had  been  passionately  fond  when  she  was  fourteen 
and  I  sixteen  years  of  age.  I  saw  her  first  in  a  French  family  of  distinction, 
where  my  father  had  lodged  me  for  the  same  reason  as  her  parents  had 
placed  her  there  ;  that  is,  for  the  sake  of  the  purity  of  the  French  tongue  ; 
and  as  she  had  a  rational  generosity  of  heart,  and  an  understanding  that  was 
surprisingly  luminous  for  her  years  ;  could  construe  an  Ode  of  Horace  in  a 
manner  the  most  delightful,  and  read  a  chapter  in  the  Greek  Testament  with 
great  ease  every  morning  ;  she  soon  became  my  heart's  fond  idol ;  she  appeared 
in  my  eyes  as  something  more  than  mortal.  I  thought  her  a  divinity.  Books 
furnished  us  with  an  occasion  of  being  often  together,  and  we  fancied  the  time 
was  happily  spent.  But  all  at  once  she  disappeared.  As  she  had  a  vast  fortune, 
and  as  there  was  a  suspicion  of  an  amour,  she  was  snatched  away  in  a  moment, 


INTRODUCTION  ix 


and  for  twenty  years  from  the  afternoon  she  vanished,  I  could  not  see  her  or 
hear  of  her  :  whether  living  or  dead,  I  knew  not  till  the  night  I  am  speaking 
of,  that  I  saw  come  into  the  room,  the  lovely  Julia  Desborough  transformed 
into  Mrs.  Mort.  Our  mutual  surprise  was  vastly  great.  We  could  not  speak 
for  some  time.  We  knew  each  other  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  but  an  hour  ago 
we  parted,  so  strong  was  the  impression  made.  She  was  still  divinely  fair  ; 
but  I  wondered  she  could  remember  me  so  well,  as  time  and  many  shaking 
rubs  had  altered  me  very  greatly  for  the  worse.  See  how  strangely  things  are 
brought  about !  Miss  Desborough  was  removed  all  the  way  to  Italy,  kept 
many  years  abroad  that  she  might  never  see  me  more,  and  in  the  character 
of  Mrs.  Mprt,  by  accident,  I  found  her  in  solitude  in  the  same  country  I  lived 
in,  and  still  my  friend.  This  lady  told  me,  she  had  buried  an  admirable  hus- 
band a  few  years  ago,  and,  as  she  never  had  any  liking  to  the  world, 
she  devoted  her  time  to  books,  her  old  favourites,  the  education  of  her  daughter, 
and  the  salvation  of  her  soul.  Miss  Mort  and  she  lived  like  two  friends.  They 
read  and  spun  some  hours  of  their  time  every  day  away. 

"  They  had  a  few  agreeable  neighbours,  and  from  the  lake  and  cultivation 
of  their  gardens  derived  a  variety  of  successive  pleasures.  They  had  no  relish 
for  the  tumultuous  pleasures  of  the  town  ;  but  in  the  charms  of  letters  and 
religion,  the  philosophy  of  flowers,  the  converse  of  their  neighbours,  a  linen 
manufactory,  and  their  rural  situation,  were  as  happy  as  their  wishes  could 
rise  to  in  this  hemisphere.  All  this  to  me  was  like  a  vision.  I  wondered, 
I  admired.  Is  this  Miss  Desborough  with  whom  I  was  wont  to  pass  so  many 
hours  in  reading  Milton  to  her,  or  Telemaque,  or  L'Avare  de  Moliere  ?  What 
a  fleeting  scene  is  life  !  But  a  little  while  and  we  go  on  to  another  world. 
Fortunate  are  they  who  are  fit  for  the  remove,  who  have  a  clear  conception 
of  the  precariousness  and  vanity  of  all  human  things,  and  by  virtue  and  piety 
so  strive  to  act  what  is  fairest  and  most  laudable,  and  so  pass  becomingly 
through  this  life,  that  they  may  in  the  next  obtain  the  blessed  and  immortal 
abodes  prepared  for  those  who  can  give  up  their  account  with  joy." 

Though  his  admiration  for  the  female  sex  was  always  enthusiastic,  it  i ••  not 
until  he  gets  to  the  sequel  that  our  author  begins  to  show  the  sincerity  <  i  his 
appreciation  by  marrying  them.  When  he  does  begin,  his  perseverance  is 
limited  only  by  his  profound  respect  for  human  and  divine  legislation.  John 
Buncle  is  a  Mormon  born  out  of  due  time.  Had  he  lived  in  the  day  of  Joe 
Smith,  he  would,  beyond  all  manner  of  doubt,  have  proved  his  belief  in  a 
religion  so  consistent  with  the  dictates  of  reason  and  the  constitution  of  man 
by  becoming  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of  the  Latter-Day  Saints.  Buncle 
represents  the  man  who,  in  Meredith's  phrase,  has  neither  rounded  Seraglio 
Point  nor  doubled  Cape  Turk  ;  yet  his  constitutional  respect  for  law,  rather 
the  letter  than  the  spirit,  is  such  that  he  finds  a  pleasure  in  restraining  his 
polygamous  instincts — and  denouncing  those  of  other  people.  Buncle's 
conscience  was,  in  truth,  a  curious  faculty.  So  long  as  he  kept  to  the  strict 
article  of  a  definite,  but  somewhat  shaky,  code  of  morals,  he  was  never  tired 
of  pluming  himself  upon  his  virtue,  and  complimenting  those  people  who 
agreed  with  him.  When  once  he  begins  to  argue  with  himself  or  his  detractors 
upon  ethical  questions,  then  his  unconscious  humour  becomes  most  delectable. 
His  apology  to  such  as  objected  to  the  brevity  of  his  periods  of  mourning  for 
his  deceased  wives  and  his  haste  in  securing  another  partner,  has  been  quoted 
often  enough,  but  I  will  venture  to  quote  it  again  : — 

"  I  reply,  that  I  think  it  unreasonable  and  impious  to  grieve  immoderately 
for  the  dead.  A  decent  and  proper  tribute  of  tears  and  sorrow,  humanity 
requires  ;  but  when  that  duty  has  been  paid,  we  must  remember,  that  to 
lament  a  dead  woman  is  not  to  lament  a  wife.  A  wife  must  be  a  living  woman. 
The  wife  we  lose  by  death  is  no  more  than  a  sad  and  empty  object,  formed  by 
the  imagination,  and  to  be  still  devoted  to  her,  is  to  be  iri  love  with  an  idea. 
It  is  a  mere  chimerical  passion,  as  the  deceased  has  no  more  to  do  with  this 
world,  than  if  she  had  existed  before  the  flood.  As  we  cannot  restore  what 
nature  has  destroyed,  it  is  foolish  to  be  faithful  to  affliction.  Nor  is  this  all, 
if  the  woman  we  marry  has  the  seven  qualifications  which  every  man  would 


INTRODUCTION 


wish  to  find  in  a  wife,  beauty,  discretion,  sweetness  of  temper,  a  sprightly  wit, 
fertility,  wealth,  and  noble  extraction,  yet  death's  snatching  so  amiable 
a  wife  from  our  arms  can  be  no  reason  for  accusing  fate  of  cruelty,  that  is, 
providence  of  injustice  ;  nor  can  it  authorise  us  to  sink  into  insensibility, 
and  neglect  the  duty  and  business  of  life.  This  wife  was  born  to  die,  and  we 
receive  her  under  the  condition  of  mortality.  She  is  lent  but  for  a  term, 
the  limits  of  which  we  are  not  made  acquainted  with  ;  and  when  this  term 
is  expired,  there  can  be  no  injustice  in  taking  her  back  ;  nor  are  we  to  indulge 
the  transports  of  grief  to  distraction,  but  should  look  out  for  another  with  the 
seven  qualifications,  as  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  and  as  he  is  by  the 
Abrahamic  covenant  bound  to  carry  on  the  succession  in  a  regular  way  if 
it  be  in  his  power.  Nor  is  this  all,  if  the  woman  adorned  with  every  natural 
and  acquired  excellence  is  translated  from  this  gloomy  planet  to  some  better 
world,  to  be  a  sharer  of  the  divine  favour,  in  that  peaceful  and  happy  state 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  the  virtuous  and  faithful,  must  it  not  be  senseless 
for  me  to  indulge  melancholy  and  continue  a  mourner  on  her  account,  while 
she  is  breathing  the  balmy  air  of  paradise,  enjoying  pure  and  radiant  vision, 
and  beyond  description  happy  ?  " 

His  other  motives  for  desiring  to  get  married  as  often  as  he  decently  could, 
and  the  workings  of  his  very  peculiar  conscience,  are  revealed  with  wonted 
frankness  in  the  following  statement  of  his  mental  deliberations  when  con- 
fronted with  the  responsibility  of  a  choice  of  brides : — 

"  Against  staying  longer  than  two  or  three  days,  I  had  many  good  reasons 
that  made  it  necessary  for  me  to  depart :  beside  the  unreasonableness  of 
my  being  an  expense  to  Mr.  Turner  in  his  absence,  or  confining  his  sister  to 
the  country  ;  there  was  Orton-Lodge,  to  which  I  could  not  avoid  going  again  : 
and  there  was  Miss  Melmoth,  on  whom  I  had  promised  to  wait,  and  did  intend 
to  ask  her  if  she  would  give  me  her  hand,  as  I  liked  her  and  her  circumstances, 
and  fancied  she  would  live  with  me  in  any  retreat  I  pleased  to  name  ;  which 
was  a  thing  that  would  be  most  pleasing  to  my  mind.  It  is  true,  if  Charles 
Turner  had  come  home,  while  I  stayed  at  his  house,  it  was  possible  I  might 
have  got  his  sister,  who  was  a  very  great  fortune  :  but  this  was  an  uncertainty 
however,  and  in  his  absence,  I  could  not  in  honour  make  my  addresses  to  her  : 
if  it  should  be  against  his  mind,  it  would  be  acting  a  false  part,  while  I  was 
eating  his  bread.  Miss  Turner  to  be  sure  had  fifty  thousand  pounds  at  her 
own  disposal,  and  so  far  as  I  could  judge  of  her  mind,  during  the  three  days 
that  I  stayed  with  her  at  Skelsmore-Vale,  I  had  some  reason  to  imagine  her 
heart  might  be  gained  :  but  for  a  man  worth  nothing  to  do  this,  in  her  brother's 
house  without  his  leave,  was  a  part  I  could  not  act,  though  by  missing  her  I 
had  been  brought  to  beg  my  bread." 

The  moral,  religious,  and  speculative  digressions  that  take  up  by  far  the 
greater  space  in  the  book  are  of  singularly  little  interest  to  us.  They  contain 
no  original  thought,  and  merely  display  the  extent  of  their  author's  erudition. 
The  utmost  praise  one  can  give  is  that  now  and  then  he  puts  a  commonplace 
well,  as  for  instance  : — 

"  How  shall  we  account  for  such  things  ?  By  saying,  that  the  world  that 
now  is,  and  the  world  that  is  to  come,  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  every 
transaction  in  them  is  quite  right,  though  the  reason  of  the  procedure  may  be 
beyond  our  view.  We  cannot  judge  certainly  of  the  ends  and  purposes  of 
Providence,  and  therefore  to  pass  judgment  on  the  ways  of  God,  is  not  only 
impious,  but  ridiculous  to  the  last  degree." 

Beyond  that  his  science  is  absurd,  his  speculations  are  vain,  and  his  reason- 
ing, in  spite  of  its  pompous  phrasing,  very  shallow. 

Amory's  exaggerated  descriptions  of  scenery,  in  the  Memoirs,  and  the  earlier 
part  of  John  Buncle,  have  drawn  upon  his  head  a  great  deal  of  ridicule.  Per- 
haps he  has  been  laughed  at  rather  unfairly,  and  more  allowance  ought  to 
have  been  made  for  the  ideas  of  the  time  when  he  wrote.  With  hardly  any 
exception,  the  eighteenth  century  writers  who  have  tried  to  delineate  savage 
scenery  have  been  afflicted  by  emotions  of  nervousness  and  stupefaction 
that  seem  rather  absurd  nowadavs.  This  is  how  Pennant  describes  the 


INTRODUCTION  xi 


scenery  of  Derwentwater  :  "  Here  all  the  possible  variety  of  Alpine  scenery 
is  exhibited,  with  all  the  horror  of  precipice,  overhanging  rock,  or 
insulated  pyramidal  hills,  contrasted  with  others  whose  smooth  and 
verdant  sides,  swelling  into  immense  aerial  heights,  at  once  please 
and  surprise  the  eye.  The  two  extremities  of  the  lake  afford  most 
discordant  prospects :  the  southern  is  a  composition  of  all  that  is 
horrible,  an  immense  chasm  opens,"  and  so  on.  Dr.  Brown,  in  his  famous 
letter,  finds  that  "  the  full  perfection  of  Keswick  consists  of  three  circum- 
stances, beauty,  horror,  and  immensity  united."  "  On  the  opposite  shore," 
says  he,  "  you  will  find  rocks  and  cliffs  of  stupendous  height,  hanging  broken 
over  the  lake  in  horrible  grandeur,  some  of  them  a  thousand  feet  high,  the 
woods  climbing  up  their  steep  and  shaggy  sides,  where  mortal  foot  never  yet 
approached.  On  these  dreadful  heights  the  eagles  build  their  nests  ;  a  variety 
of  waterfalls  are  seen  pouring  from  their  summits,  and  tumbling  in  vast  sheets 
from  rock  to  rock  in  rude  and  terrible  magnificence,"  etc.  At  Malham  Cove, 
in  Craven,  one  of  the  spots,  probably,  where  Buncle  encountered  an  impassable 
range  of  unscalable  "  mountains,"  the  poet  Gray  found  it  "  safer  to  shelter 
yourself  close  to  its  bottom  "  (lest  any  of  the  rocks  at  the  summit  should  give 
way  and  overwhelm  the  spectator),  "  and  trust  to  the  mercy  of  that  enormous 
mass,  which  nothing  but  an  earthquake  can  stir."  "  I  stayed  there,"  he 
continues,  "  not  without  shuddering,  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  thought  my 
trouble  richly  paid,  for  the  impression  will  last  for  life."  West,  of  Ulverston, 
the  author  of  the  earliest  guide  to  the  Lakes,  who  fell  foul  of  Gray  for  his 
hyperbolic  descriptions,  speaks  of  ''an  arrangement  of  vast  mountains, 
entirely  new,  both  in  form  and  colouring  of  rock  ;  large  hollow  craters  scooped 
in  their  bosoms,  once  the  seeming  seats  of  raging  liquid  fire,  though  at  present 
overflowing  with  the  purest  water,  that  foams  down  the  craggy  brows." 
Here  we  can  almost  picture  the  tarns  on  the  hill-tops  described  by  Buncle, 
their  depths  communicating  with  the  "  abyss."  And  again  we  can  realize 
some  of  his  difficulties  in  travelling  when  we  read  of  another  writer  who  found 
the  lake  of  Wast  water  "  of  access  most  laborious  from  the  nature  of  its 
surrounding  soil,  which  is  utterly  devoid  of  tenacity."  West  goes  on,  "The 
lower  parts  are  pastured  with  a  motley  herd  ;  the  middle  tract  is  assumed  by 
the  flocks,  the  upper  regions  (to  man  inaccessible)  are  abandoned  to  the  birds 
of  Jove."  Mr.  W.  P.  Haskett  Smith  quotes  Mrs.  Radcliffe  touching  the 
ascent  of  Saddleback  :  "  The  views  from  the  summit  are  exceedingly  ex- 
tensive, but  those  immediately  under  the  eye  on  the  mountain  itself  so  tre- 
mendous and  appalling  that  few  persons  have  sufficient  resolution  to  experience 
the  emotions  which  those  awful  scenes  inspire."  "  When  we  had  ascended 
about  a  mile,"  says  another  writer,  "  one  of  the  party,  on  looking  round, 
was  so  astonished  with  the  different  appearance  of  objects  in  the  valley  so 
far  beneath  us  that  he  declined  proceeding.  We  had  not  gone  much  further 
till  the  other  companion  was  suddenly  taken  ill  and  wished  to  loose  blood  and 
return." 

Buncle's  romantic  pen,  sketching  freely  from  memory,  and  biassed  by  his 
constitutional  megalomania,  went  very  little  farther,  after  all,  when  he  turned 
these  awe-inspiring  fells  into  ranges  of  impassable  mountains.  The  lakes, 
the  tarns,  the  bogs,  and  the  waterfalls  are  still  there,  and  may  have  similar 
effects  on  people  who  are  prepared  by  a  suitable  education  to  be  appalled. 
Stainmore  Forest  has  always  been  one  of  the  wildest  districts  in  Britain,  and 
in  Amory's  day  still  retained  an  evil  reputation  for  murders  and  highway 
robberies.  The  burning  river  may  have  had  its  origin  in  a  reminiscence  of 
bog-fires,  more  plentiful  then  than  now.  The  adjoining  district  of  Craven 
possesses  genuine  marvels  enough  in  the  way  of  caves,  pot-holes  and  under- 
ground water-channels,  wet  and  dry,  to  furnish  a  Jules  Verne  with  ample 
materials  for  romance.  Buncle  has  simply  multiplied  the  existing  caverns 
and  magnified  their  proportions.  If  we  make  proper  allowance  for  the  atti- 
tude of  the  time  as  regards  natural  sublimity,  I  think  Amory  is  not  a  much 
more  flagrant  offender  against  truth  and  probability  than  the  author  of 
Lorna  Doone. 


xii  INTRODUCTION 


John  Buncle  is  a  personage  of  definite  lineaments  whom,  once  known, 
we  can  never  forget  or  confuse  with  any  other  personage,  real  or  fictitious  : 
his  author,  Thomas  Amory,  is  a  very  vague  and  unsubstantial  being  indeed. 
Yet  there  is  much  to  be  said,  if  only  on  internal  evidence,  for  the  view  that  in 
the  creation  we  may  recognize  the  authentic  features  of  the  author  himself. 
There  is  a  certain  class  of  books  that  convince  their  reader,  although  it  might 
be  impossible  to  prove  the  case  by  actual  reason,  that  they  are  autobiogra- 
phical, in  the  sense  that  they  express,  more  or  less  consciously,  the  character 
of  their  writers.  One  feels  it  in  reading  them,  the  perception  is  intuitive  and 
irresistible.  Whether  it  be  the  accent  given  to  unimportant  traits,  or  the 
emergence  of  more  intimate  peculiarities,  or  something  altogether  un- 
definable  and  intangible,  we  feel  it,  quite  independently  of  external  evidence, 
in  reading  David  Copperfield,  Pendennis,  or  Jane  Eyre,  and  even  minor  works 
like  The  Fool  of  Quality.  We  feel  it,  never  more  strongly,  whilst  perusing 
The  Life  of  John  Buncle,  so  strongly  that  it  would  require  cogent  proofs  of 
the  contrary  to  unsettle  our  convictions.  The  reader  must  judge  from  the 
following  summary  of  what  can  be  ascertained  about  Thomas  Amory,  from 
the  statements  of  himself,  his  son,  and  other  persons,  whether  the  validity 
of  the  intuitive  view  is  confirmed  in  the  present  instance. 

A  letter  appeared  in  the  St.  James's  Chronicle  on  October  25,  1788,  inquiring 
as  to  the  authorship  of  John  Buncle,  and  it  was  replied  to  in  a  letter,  which 
can  be  referred  to  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  (vol.  Iviii.  p.  1062),  stating 
that  the  unknown  author  was  Thomas  Amory,  a  native  of  Ireland,  who  had 
been  bred  to  some  branch  of  the  profession  of  physic,  and  was  now  living  as  a 
recluse  on  a  small  fortune  in  Orchard  Street,  Westminster,  with  a  country 
house  to  which  he  occasionally  retired  at  Bellf  ont,  near  Hounslow.  The  corres- 
pondent went  on  to  describe  Amory  as  "  A  man  of  a  very  peculiar  Look  and 
Aspect,  though  at  the  same  time,  he  bore  quite  the  Appearance  of  a  Gentleman. 
He  read  much  ;  and  scarce  ever  stirred,  but  like  a  Bat,  in  the  Dark  of  the 
Evening ;  and  then  he  would  take  his  usual  Walk  ;  but  seemed  to  be  always 
ruminating  on  speculative  Subjects,  even  while  passing  along  the  most  crowded 
Streets."  This  elicited  a  reply  from  the  son  of  the  mysterious  author,  Robert 
Amory,  M.D.,  who  controverted  certain  erroneous  statements,  and  gave  a 
genealogy  of  the  Amorys,  whose  lineage  he  traced  to  Amory  de  Montford, 
who  married  the  sister  of  Henry  II.,  and  was  created  Earl  of  Leicester. 
Amory  "  was  not  a  native  of  Ireland.  His  Father,  Councillor  Amory, 
attended  King  William  to  Ireland,  and  was  appointed  Secretary  for  the  for- 
feited Estates  in  that  Kingdom,  and  was  possessed  of  very  extensive  Property 
in  the  County  of  Clare.  He  was  the  youngest  Brother  of  Amory  or  Darner, 
the  Miser,  whom  Pope  calls  '  the  Wealthy  and  the  Wise  '  ;  from  whom  comes 
Lord  Milton,  etc.,  etc.  My  Grandfather  married  the  Daughter  of  Fitzmaurice, 
Earl  of  Kerry  ;  Sir  William  Petty  another  Daughter  ;  and  the  Grandfather 
of  the  Duke  of  Leinster  another."  He  goes  on  to  state  that  Thomas  Amory 
lived  on  Mill  Bank,  Westminster,  and  for  a  few  years  rented  a  house  at 
Bedfont.  He  never  had  but  one  wife,  and  Robert  Amory  was  himself  the 
only  surviving  child.  At  that  date,  1788,  his  father  was  still  living,  though 
now  ninety-seven  years  old.  When  young  he  was  a  very  handsome  man. 
He  had  published  many  religious  and  political  tracts,  poems  and  songs.  He 
now  lived  in  complete  seclusion,  not  seeing  anybody. 

This  letter  was  replied  to  by  Louis  Renas,  who  threw  doubt  and  contumely 
on  the  alleged  genealogy,  which  he  characterized  as  "  an  idle  tale,  void  of 
foundation  or  probability."  The  insult  drew  out  a  further  letter  from  Dr. 
Amory,  who  in  an  irritated  manner  reasserted  his  original  statements,  and 
wound  up  by  insinuating  that  his  correspondent's  real  name  was  "  Mr.  Louis 
the  Ass,"  whence  he  said  it  would  be  easy  for  the  Heralds  Office  to  find  out 
his  family  connections.  This  pretty  controversy  came  to  an  end  with  a  letter 
from  L.  Renas,  dated  April  20,  1790,  in  which  he  apologized  for  a  slight  error 
in  his  previous  communications,  and  admitted  that  Thomas  Amory  was  indeed 
the  grandson  of  a  lord — Baron  Kerry — but  reiterated  his  other  contentions. 
There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Robert  Amory,  M.D.,  had  inherited  some  of 


INTRODUCTION 


the  eccentricities  and  a  good  deal  of  the  temper  of  his  father,  who  was  as  fond 
of  a  dispute  as  his  hero,  John  B uncle. 

Amory,  if  not  a  native  of  Ireland,  seems  to  have  lived  in  Dublin  at  some 
period,  and  to  have  been  acquainted  with  Swift.  In  1751,  on  the  publication 
of  Lord  Orrery's  remarks  on  the  life  and  writings  of  Dr.  Swift,  the  following 
advertisement  appeared  in  the  Whitehall  Evening  Post,  but  there  is  no  record 
that  the  pamphlet  was  ever  printed  :  "  Soon  will  be  published  a  Letter  to  Lord 
Orrery  in  answer  to  what  his  Lordship  says  in  his  late  remarks  in  praise  of 
Swift's  Sermon  on  the  Trinity  ;  -being  an  attempt  to  vindicate  the  divinity 
of  God  the  Father  Almighty,  and  to  convince  his  Lordship,  if  he  has  a 
mind  open  to  conviction,  that  the  tritheistic  discourse  preached  by  the  Dean 
of  St.  Patrick's  is  so  far  from  being  that  masterpiece  my  Lord  Orrery  calls 
it  that  it  is  in  reality  the  most  senseless  and  despicable  performance  ever 
produced  by  orthodoxy  to  corrupt  the  divine  religion  of  Jesus  Christ.  By 
Thomas  Amory,  Esq."  One  would  like  greatly  to  read  this  fulmination  by 
a  man  who,  to  judge  by  the  disposition  of  his  fictitious  counterpart,  was 
quick  to  wrath,  a  good  hater,  and  outdid  even  that  other  eccentric  of  genius, 
George  Borrow,  in  the  violence  of  his  enmity  for  Roman  Catholics,  and  most 
other  people  who  disagreed  with  him.  In  1776  appeared  an  anonymous  work 
entitled  John  Buncle,  junr.,  Gentleman,  12  mo,  Dublin,  the  author  of  which 
was  a  certain  Dr.  Cogan.  An  anonymous  pamphlet  that  appeared  in  the 
same  year  as  the  Memoirs,  entitled,  "  A  Letter  to  the  Reviewers  occasioned 
by  their  account  of  a  book  called  Memoirs,  etc."  was  presumably  written 
by  Amory.  In  Notes  and  Queries  for  January  27,  1855,  is  quoted  a  letter 
from,;"  Amouri,"  (Thomas  Amory)  to  an  unnamed  lady,  enclosing  a  copy  of 
verses  composed  by  ten  gentlemen,  including  the  writer,  in  praise  of  a  certain 
Molly  Rowe.  The  following  stanza  is  signed  "  T.  Amory  "  : — 
"  In  the  dance,  through  the  couples  ascudding, 

How  graceful  and  light  does  she  go  ! 
No  Englishman  ever  lov'd  pudding 

As  I  love  my  sweet  Molly  Rowe." 

The  pudding  simile  is  certainly  in  the  vein  of  John  Buncle.  The  letter  is 
dated  from  Newton  in  Yorkshire,  July  th'  8,  1773.  Amory  died  on  November 
25,  1788,  at  the  age  of  ninety-seven. 

It  is  regrettable  that  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography  and  the  latest 
edition  of  Chambers's  Cyclopaedia  of  English  Literature  should  still  persist 
in  the  statement  that  the  author  of  John  Buncle  must  have  been  disordered 
in  his  intellect,  in  spite  of  the  indignation  with  which  this  charge,  advanced 
in  the  General  Biographical  Dictionary,  in  1798,  was  repudiated  by  an  able 
writer  in  the  Retrospective  Review  (vol.  vi.,  1822).  Although  it  is  insinuated 
that  anybody  who  admires  the  book  must  likewise  be  in  want  of  medical 
treatment,  we  can  afford  to  bear  the  reflection  with  equanimity  in  the  dis- 
tinguished company  of  Lamb,  Hazlitt,  Leigh  Hunt,  and  other  able  men  who 
have  confessed  a  liking  for  this  strange  book. 

E.A.B. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS 

John  Buncle,  the  supposed  autobiographer. 

Mr.  John  Bruce,  his  private  tutor. 

Harriot  Noel,  his  first  love,  cut  off  by  small-pox  on  the  eve  of  their  marriage. 

Mr.  Noel,  her  father,  owner  of  Eden  Park. 

Soto  Finn,  or  O'Fin,  Buncle's  servant. 

Dr.  Whaley,  Dean  of  Derry,  his  fellow-passenger  in  crossing  from  Dublin  to  Whitehaven. 

Pierce  Gavan,  a  fellow-commoner  of  Buncle's  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin ;  has  a  marvellous 

escape  from  drowning. 

Charles  Henley,  a  young  merchant,  drowned  in  crossing  the  Irish  Sea. 
Whitwell,  the  mate  of  the  packet. 

Miss  Melmoth,  Buncle's  first  wife,  dies  of  fever  at  the  end  of  two  years. 
Charles  Turner,  an  old  university  friend,  living  in  the  wilds  of  Westmoreland  and  Yorkshire. 
John  Price,  a  farmer  near  Stainmore  Forest,  an  old  schoolfriend  from  Dublin. 
Martha,  his  wife,  learned  in  divinity. 

Mrs.  Burcot  (Azora),  Superior  of  the  female  republic  living  at  Burcot  Lodge. 
Mrs.  Fletcher  (Antonia),  her  friend  and  confidant  among  the  hundred  young  women  forming 

the  community. 

The  twenty  philosophic  recluses  of  Ulubrae. 
Miss  Har court,  a  learned  young  lady,  foundress  of  a  house  of  Protestant  recluses  in  Rich- 

mondshire. 

Mr.  Harcourt,  her  father. 
Mr.  Berrisfort,  a  learned  gentleman. 
Miss  Berrisfort,  his  sister,  a  daring  horsewoman. 
Miss  Fox,  their  cousin. 
The  three  Flemings,  devout  Roman  Catholics,  farmers  in  Stainmore,  one  of  whom  Buncle 

converts. 

Mr.  Henley,  the  philosophic  proprietor  of  the  Groves  of  Basil. 
Statia,  his  daughter,  Buncle's  second  wife,  who  dies  in  two  years  of  small-pox. 
Ten  Ivonist  friars  and  their  ten  wives  in  a  Protestant  monastery  near  Harrogate. 
Miss  Antonia  Cranmer,  a  young  lady  of  large  fortune,  who  becomes  Buncle's  third  wife, 

and  dies  of  small-pox  at  the  end  of  two  years. 
Agnes  Vane,  her  cousin. 

Dorick  Watson,  a  converted  Roman  Catholic,  turned  recluse. 
Mr.  Gollogher  > 
Mr.  Gallaspy     I 

Mr.  Dunkley     I      Six  Irish  gentlemen  whom  Buncle  meets  with  at  Harrogate,  his  contem- 
Mr.  Makins       j          poraries  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 
Mr.  Monaghan  I 
Mr.  O'Keefe     J 

Charles  Hunt,  owner  of  a  small  estate  in  Kildare  in  Buncle's  boyhood. 
Elizabeth,  his  daughter,  ruined  and  deserted  by  Mr.  R. 

Miss  Spence,  of  Westmoreland,  Buncle's  fourth  wife,  dies  in  six  months  of  a  malignant  fever. 
Miss  Fox  (Imoinda),  an  old  flame  of  Buncle's. 
Oliver  Wincup,  Esq.,  of  Woodcester,  an  agreeable  acquaintance. 
Miss  Veyssiere,  a  dashing  young  beauty,  sacrificed  to  a  rich  old  man. 
Miss  Turner,  sister  of  Buncle's  friend,  Charles  Turner,  his  fifth  wife,  killed  in  six  weeks  by 

a  carriage  accident. 
Martha  Jacquelot,  her  friend. 

Miss  Hinxworth,  a  gentleman's  daughter,  carried  off  by  O* Regan. 
O' Regan,  an  Irish  dancing  master. 

Tom  Clancy,  landlord  of  the  Cat  and  Bagpipe,  near  Knaresborough. 

Mtss  Martha  Tilston     \     Two  beautiful  young  heiresses,  wards  of  their  tyrannical  uncle 
Miss  Althea  Llandsoy    /         Old  Cock. 
Old  Cock,  a  villainous  lawyer. 
Ribble,  a  little  old  man,  skilled  in  chemistry. 
Richmond,  his  cousin,  an  invalid  through  debauchery. 
Avery  Moncton,  a  deluded  husband,  who  turns  hermit. 
Edmund  Curll,  the  famous  bookseller,  satirized  by  Pope  in  the  Dunciad. 
Carola  Bennet,  a  courtesan  who  is  married  and  reformed  by  a  young  clergyman. 
Dunk  the  miser. 
Miss  Dunk,  his  daughter,  afterwards  Mrs.  Stainville,  and  then  the  sixth  Mrs.  Buncle :  dies 

in  two  years  of  small-pox. 

Dr.  Stainville,  who  exhumes  and  marries  Miss  Dunk. 
Dr.  Fitzgibbons,  an  Irish  gentleman. 
Julia,  his  daughter,  Buncle's  seventh  wife,  drowned  shortly  after  their  union. 


The  Life  of  John  Buncle,  Esq. 


Nee  Vixit  Male,  qui  Natus  Moriensque  fefellit. 


THAT  the  transactions  of  my  life,  and  the  observations  and  re- 
flections I  have  made  on  men  and  things,  by  sea  and  land,  in 
various  parts  of  the  world,  might  not  be  buried  in  oblivion,  and 
by  length  of  time  be  blotted  out  of  the  memory  of  men,  it  has 
been  my  wont,  from  the  days  of  my  youth  to  this  time,  to  write 
down  memorandums  of  every  thing  I  thought  worth  noticing, 
as  men  and  matters,  books  and  circumstances,  came  in  my  way  ; 
and  in  hopes  they  may  be  of  some  service  to  my  fellow- mortals 
I  publish  them.  Some  pleasing  and  some  surprising  things  the 
reader  will  find  in  them.  He  will  meet  with  miscellany  thoughts 
upon  several  subjects.  He  will  read,  if  he  pleases,  some  tender 
stories.  But  all  the  relations,  the  thoughts,  the  observations, 
are  designed  for  the  advancement  of  valuable  learning,  and  to 
promote  whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  what- 
soever things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report. 

About  fifty  years  ago  the  midwife  wheeled  me  in,  and  much 
sooner  than  half  a  century  hence,  in  all  human  probability,  death 
will  wheel  me  out.  When  Heaven  pleases,  I  am  satisfied.  Life 
and  death  are  equally  welcome,  because  equally  parts  of  my 
way  to  eternity.  My  lot  has  been  a  swarthy  one  in  this  first 
state,  and  I  am  in  hopes  I  shall  exchange  worlds  to  advantage. 
As  God,  without  all  peradventure,  brought  his  moral  creatures 
into  being,  in  order  to  increase  their  virtue,  and  provide  suitable 
happiness  for  the  worthy,  the  most  unfortunate  here  may  expect 
immutable  felicity  at  last,  if  they  have  endeavoured,  in  pro- 
portion to  what  power  they  had,  to  render  themselves  useful 
and  valuable,  by  a  sincerity  and  benevolence  of  temper,  a  dis- 
interestedness, a  communicativeness,  and  the  practice  of  those 
duties,  to  which  we  are  obliged  by  the  frame  of  our  nature, 
and  by  the  relations  we  bear  to  God,  and  to  the  subjects  of  his 
government. 

For  my  part,  I  confess  that,  many  have  been  the  failings  of  my 
life,  and  great  the  defects  of  my  obedience.  But  in  the  midst 
of  all  my  failings  and  imperfections,  my  soul  hath  always  sym- 
pathised with  the  afflicted,  and  my  heart  hath  ever  ached  for  the 
miseries  of  others.  My  hand  has  often  relieved  when  I  wanted 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the  shilling  to  comfort  myself,  and  when  it  hath  not  been  in  my 
power  to  relieve,  I  have  grieved  for  the  scanty  accommodations 
of  others.  Many  troublesome  and  expensive  offices  I  have 
undertaken  to  do  good  to  men,  and  ever  social  and  free  have 
I  been  in  my  demeanour,  easy  and  smooth  in  my  address  ;  and 
therefore  I  trust  that,  whenever  I  am  removed  from  this  horizon, 
it  will  be  from  a  dark  and  cloudy  state,  to  that  of  joy,  light, 
and  full  revelation.  This  felicitates  my  every  day,  let  what 
happen  from  without.  This  supports  me  under  every  affliction, 
and  enables  me  to  maintain  a  habit  of  satisfaction  and  joy  in  the 
general  course  of  my  life. 

The  things  of  my  childhood  are  not  worth  setting  down,  and 
therefore  I  commence  my  life  from  the  first  month  of  the  seven- 
teenth year  of  my  age,  when  I  was  sent  to  the  university,  in  1720, 
and  entered  a  pensioner,  though  I  had  a  larger  yearly  allowance 
than  any  fellow-commoner  of  my  college.  I  was  resolved  to 
read  there,  and  determined  to  improve  my  natural  faculties  to 
the  utmost  of  my  power.  Nature,  I  was  sensible,  had  bestowed 
no  genius  on  me.  This,  and  understanding,  are  only  the  privi- 
lege of  extraordinary  persons,  who  receive  from  Heaven  the 
happy  conjunction  of  qualities,  that  they  may  execute  great 
and  noble  designs,  and  acquire  the  highest  pitch  of  excellence 
in  the  profession  they  turn  to,  if  they  will  take  the  pains  to  perfect 
the  united  qualities  by  art,  and  carefully  avoid  running  into 
caprice  and  paradox  ;  the  rocks  on  which  many  a  genius  has 
split.  But  then  I  had  a  tolerable  share  of  natural  understanding, 
and  from  my  infancy  was  teachable,  and  always  attentive  to 
the  directions  of  good  sense.  This  I  knew  might  rise  with  some 
labour,  to  a  half  merit,  though  it  could  never  gain  immortality 
upon  any  account :  and  this  was  enough  for  me.  I  wanted  only 
to  acquire  such  degrees  of  perfections  as  lay  within  the  small 
sphere  nature  had  chalked  out  for  me. 

To  this  purpose  I  devoted  my  college  life  to  books,  and  for 
five  years  that  I  resided  in  the  university,  conversed  so  much 
with  the  dead  that  I  had  very  little  intercourse  with  the  living. 
So  totally  had  letters  engaged  my  mind,  that  I  was  but  little 
affected  towards  most  other  things.  Walking  and  music  were 
my  favourite  recreations,  and  almost  the  only  ones  I  delighted 
in.  I  had  hardly  a  thought  at  that  time  of  the  foolish  choices 
and  pursuits  of  men,  those  fatal  choices  and  pursuits  which  are 
owing  to  false  judgments,  and  to  a  habit  of  acting  precipitantly, 
without  examining  the  fancies  and  appetites  ;  and  therefore  very 
rarely  went  into  the  pleasures  and  diversions  which  men  of  fortune 
in  a  university  too  commonly  indulge  in.  My  relaxation  after 
study  was  my  german-flute  and  the  conversation  of  some  in- 
genious, sober  friend,  generally  my  private  tutor,  Mr.  JOHN 
BRUCE,  who  was  a  bright  and  excellent  man,  and  of  whom  you 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


will  find  a  large  account  in  the  first  volume  of  my  Memoirs  of 
several  Ladies  of  Great  Britain,  1755,  8vo,  p.  7.  If  the  weather 
permitted,  I  walked  out  into  the  country  several  miles.  At  this 
exercise  I  had  often  one  or  other  with  me  ;  but  for  the  most  part 
was  obliged  to  go  alone.  My  dog  and  my  gun  however  were 
diversion  enough  on  the  way,  and  they  frequently  led  me  into 
scenes  of  entertainment,  which  lasted  longer  than  the  day. 
Some  of  them  you  will  find  in  this  Journal.  The  history  of  the 
beautiful  HARRIET  NOEL  you  shall  have  by  and  by. 

At  present,  my  scheme  requires  me  to  set  down  the  method 
I  pursued  in  my  readings,  and  let  my  reader  know  the  issue 
of  my  studies.  My  time  I  devoted  to  philosophy,  cosmography, 
mathematics,  and  the  languages,  for  four  years,  and  the  fifth 
I  gave  to  history. 

The  first  book  I  took  into  my  hand,  after  receiving  my  note 
of  admission,  was  the  Essay  of  that  fine  genius,  Mr.  LOCKE,  and 
I  was  so  pleased  with  this  clear  and  accurate  writer,  that  I  looked 
into  nothing  else,  till,  by  reading  it  three  times  over,  I  had  made 
a  thorough  acquaintance  with  my  own  understanding.  He 
taught  me  to  examine  my  abilities,  and  enabled  me  to  see  what 
objects  my  mind  was  fitted  to  deal  with.  He  led  me  into  the 
sanctuary  of  vanity  and  ignorance,  and  showed  me  how  greatly 
true  knowledge  depended  on  a  right  meaning  of  words,  and  a 
just  significancy  of  expression.  In  sum,  from  the  Essay  my 
understanding  received  very  great  benefits,  and  to  it  I  owe  what 
improvement  I  have  made  in  the  reason  given  me.  If  I  could, 
I  would  persuade  all  young  gentlemen  to  read  it  over  and  over 
with  great  attention,  and  I  am  sure  they  would  find  themselves 
very  richly  rewarded  for  their  pains  in  reading  it.  They  would 
acquire  that  justness  and  truth  of  understanding,  which  is  the 
great  perfection  of  rational  beings. 

When  I  had  done,  for  a  time,  with  this  admirable  Essay,  I 
then  began  to  study  the  first  principles  of  things,  the  structure 
of  the  universe,  the  contexture  of  human  bodies,  the  properties 
of  beasts,  the  virtues  of  plants,  and  the  qualities  of  metals,  and 
was  quite  charmed  with  the  contemplation  of  the  beautiful 
order  and  wise  final  causes  of  nature  in  all  her  laws  and  produc- 
tions. The  study  had  a  delightful  influence  on  the  temper  of 
my  mind,  and  inspired  into  it  a  love  of  order  in  my  heart,  and  in 
my  outward  manners.  It  likewise  led  me  to  the  great  first  cause, 
and  in  repeated  views  of  harmony,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  in  all 
the  works  of  nature,  riveted  upon  my  mind  a  fixed  conviction, 
that  all  is  under  the  administration  of  a  general  mind,  as  far 
remote  from  all  malice  as  from  all  weakness,  whether  in  respect 
of  understanding,  or  of  power.  This  gave  me  a  due  affection 
towards  the  infinitely  perfect  Parent  of  Nature  ;  and  as  I  con- 
templated his  glorious  works,  I  was  obliged  in  transports  to 


THE  LIFE  OF 


confess,  that  he  deserved  our  love  and  admiration.  This  did 
also  satisfy  me,  that  whatever  the  order  of  the  world  produces,  is 
in  the  main  both  just  and  good,  and  of  consequence  that  we  ought 
in  the  best  manner  to  support  whatever  hardships  are  to  be 
endured  for  virtue's  sake  :  that  acquiescence  and  complacency 
with  respect  to  ill  accidents,  ill  men  and  injuries,  ought  to  be 
our  part  under  a  perfect  administration  ;  and  with  benignity 
and  constancy  we  must  ever  act,  if  there  be  a  settled  persuasion 
that  all  things  are  framed  and  governed  by  an  universal  mind. 
Such  was  the  effect  the  study  of  natural  philosophy  had  upon  my 
soul.  It  set  beyond  all  doubt  before  me  the  moral  perfection 
of  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  universe.  And  if  this  Almighty 
God,  I  said,  is  perfect  wisdom  and  virtue,  does  it  not  follow  that 
he  must  approve  and  love  those  who  are  at  due  pains  to  improve 
in  wisdom  ;  and  what  he  loves  and  delights  in,  must  he  not  make 
happy  ?  This  is  an  evident  truth.  It  renders  the  cause  of  virtue 
quite  triumphant. 

But  upon  ethics  or  moral  philosophy  I  dwelt  the  longest. 
This  is  the  proper  food  of  the  soul,  and  what  perfects  it  in  all  the 
virtues  and  qualifications  of  a  gentleman.  This  science  I  col- 
lected in  the  first  place  from  the  antient  sages  and  philosophers, 
and  studied  all  the  moral  writers  of  Greece  and  Rome.  With 
great  pleasure  I  saw  that  these  immortal  authors  had  delineated, 
as  far  as  human  reason  can  go,  that  course  of  life  which  is  most 
according  to  the  intention  of  nature,  and  most  happy  ;  had 
shown  that  this  universe,  and  human  nature  in  particular,  was 
formed  by  the  wisdom  and  counsel  of  a  Deity,  and  that  from  the 
constitution  of  our  nature  various  duties  arose  :  that  since  God 
is  the  original  independent  being,  complete  in  all  possible  per- 
fection, of  boundless  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  ;  the  Creator, 
Contriver,  and  Governor  of  this  world,  to  whom  mankind  are 
indebted  for  innumerable  benefits  most  gratuitously  bestowed  ; 
we  ought  to  manifest  the  most  ardent  love  and  veneration 
toward  the  Deity,  and  worship  him  with  affections  of  soul  suited 
to  the  pre-eminence  and  infinite  grandeur  of  the  original  cause  of 
all ;  ought  to  obey  him,  as  far  as  human  weakness  can  go,  and 
humbly  submit  and  resign  ourselves  and  all  our  interests  to  his 
will ;  continually  confide  in  his  goodness,  and  constantly  imitate 
him,  as  far  as  our  weak  nature  is  capable.  This  is  due  to  that 
original  most  gracious  power  who  formed  us,  and  with  a  liberal 
hand  supplies  us  with  all  things  conducive  to  such  pleasure  and 
happiness  as  our  nature  can  receive.  That  in  respect  of  mankind, 
our  natural  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  points  out  to  us  the  duties 
to  be  performed  towards  others,  and  the  kind  affections  implanted 
by  nature,  excites  us  to  the  discharge  of  them  :  that  by  the  law 
of  our  constitution  and  nature,  justice  and  benevolence  are 
prescribed  ;  and  aids  and  an  intercourse  of  mutual  offices  re- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


quired,  not  only  to  secure  our  pleasure  and  happiness,  but  to 
preserve  ourselves  in  safety  and  in  life  ;  that  the  law  of  nature, 
or  natural  right,  forbids  every  instance  of  injustice,  a  violation 
of  life,  liberty,  health,  property  ;  and  the  exercise  of  our  honour- 
able, kind  powers,  are  not  only  a  spring  of  vigorous  efforts  to  do 
good  to  others,  and  thereby  secure  the  common  happiness  ;  but 
they  really  procure  us  a  joy  and  peace,  an  inward  applause  and 
external  advantages  ;  while  injustice  and  malice,  anger,  hatred, 
envy,  and  revenge,  are  often  matter  of  shame  and  remorse,  and 
contain  nothing  joyful,  nothing  glorious  :  in  the  greatest  affluence, 
the  savage  men  are  miserable  ;  that  as  to  ourselves,  the  voice  of 
reason  declares,  that  we  ought  to  employ  our  abilities  and  oppor- 
tunities in  improving  our  minds  to  an  extensive  knowledge  of 
nature  in  the  sciences  ;  and  by  diligent  meditation  and  observa- 
tion, acquire  that  prudence,  justice,  temperance,  and  fortitude, 
which  should  constantly  govern  our  lives.  That  solid  prudence, 
which  abhors  rashness,  inconsiderateness,  a  foolish  self -confidence 
and  craft,  and  under  a  high  sense  of  moral  excellence,  considers 
and  does  what  is  really  advantageous  in  life.  That  justice,  which 
constantly  regards  the  common  interest,  and  in  subserviency  to 
it,  gives  to  each  one  whatever  is  due  to  him  upon  any  natural 
claim.  That  temperance,  which  restrains  and  regulates  the  lower 
appetites,  and  displays  the  grace  and  beauty  of  manners.  And 
that  fortitude,  which  represses  all  vain  and  excessive  fears,  gives 
us  a  superiority  to  all  the  external  accidents  of  our  mortal  state, 
and  strengthens  the  soul  against  all  toils  or  dangers  we  may  be 
exposed  to  in  discharge  of  our  duty  ;  as  an  early  and  painful 
death  with  virtue  and  honour  is  highly  preferable  to  the  longest 
ignominious  life,  and  no  advantages  can  be  compared,  in  point 
of  happiness,  with  the  approbation  of  God,  and  of  our  own  hearts. 

That  if  in  this  manner  we  live  prepared  for  any  honourable 
services  to  God,  our  fellows,  and  ourselves,  and  practise  piety 
toward  God,  good-will  toward  men,  and  immediately  aim  at  our 
own  perfection,  then  we  may  expect,  notwithstanding  our  being 
involved  in  manifold  weaknesses  and  disorders  of  soul,  that  the 
divine  goodness  and  clemency  will  have  mercy  on  such  as  sincerely 
love  him,  and  desire  to  serve  him  with  duty  and  gratitude  ;  will 
be  propitious  and  placable  to  the  penitents,  and  all  who  exert 
their  utmost  endeavours  in  the  pursuit  of  virtue  :  and  since  the 
perfection  of  virtue  must  constitute  the  supreme  felicity  of  man, 
our  efforts  to  attain  it  must  be  effectual  in  obtaining  complete 
felicity,  or  at  least  some  lower  degree  of  it. 

This  beautiful,  moral  philosophy,  I  found  scattered  in  the 
writings  of  the  old  theist  philosophers,  and  with  great  pains 
reduced  the  various  lessons  to  a  system  of  active  and  virtuous 
offices  :  but  this  I  knew  was  what  the  majority  of  mankind  were 
incapable  of  doing  ;  and  if  they  could  do  it,  I  saw  it  was  far 


THE  LIFE  OF 


inferior  to  revelation.  Every  Sunday  I  appropriated  to  the 
study  of  revealed  religion,  and  perceived  as  I  read  the  sacred 
records,  that  the  works  of  Plato,  and  Cicero,  and  Epictetus,  and 
all  the  uninspired  sages  of  antiquity,  were  but  weak  rules  in 
respect  of  the  divine  oracles.  It  is  the  mercy  and  power  of  God 
in  the  triumphs  of  grace,  that  restores  mankind  from  the  bondage 
and  ignorance  of  idolatry.  To  this  the  sinner  owes  the  conversion 
of  his  soul.  It  is  the  statutes  of  the  Lord  that  rejoice  the  heart 
and  enlighten  the  eyes.  What  are  all  the  reasonings  of  the  philo- 
sophers to  the  melody  of  that  heavenly  voice  which  cries  con- 
tinually "Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  travail  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  refresh  you."  And  what  could  their  lessons  avail 
without  those  express  promises  of  grace  and  spiritual  assistance, 
which  the  blood  of  the  new  covenant  confirms  to  mankind  ? 
The  philosophy  of  Greece  and  Rome  was  admirable  for  the  times 
and  men  :  but  it  admits  of  no  comparison  with  the  divine  lessons 
of  our  holy  religion,  and  the  charter  of  God's  pardon  granted  to 
us  by  his  blessed  Son.  Beside,  the  philosophers  were  in  some 
degree  dark  and  doubtful  in  respect  of  death  and  futurity  ;  and 
in  relation  to  this  world,  there  is  not  a  power  in  their  discourses, 
to  preserve  us  from  being  undone  by  allurements,  in  the  midst 
of  plenty,  and  to  secure  our  peace  against  the  casualties  of  fortune, 
and  the  torments  of  disappointments  ;  to  save  us  from  the  cares 
and  solicitudes  which  attend  upon  large  possessions,  and  give 
us  a  mind  capable  of  relishing  the  good  things  before  us  ;  to  make 
us  easy  and  satisfied  as  to  the  present,  and  render  us  secure  and 
void  of  fear  as  to  the  future.  These  things  we  learn  from  revela- 
tion, and  are  informed  by  the  sacred  records  only,  that  if  we  are 
placed  here  in  the  midst  of  many  fears  and  sorrows,  and  are  often 
perplexed  with  evils  in  this  world  ;  they  are  so  many  warnings 
not  to  set  up  our  rest  here,  but  to  keep  a  steadfast  eye  upon  the 
things  which  God  has  prepared  for  those  who  love  him.  It  is 
the  gospel  informs  us,  there  is  another  scene  prepared  for  the 
moral  world,  and  that  justice  only  waits  to  see  the  full  proof  of 
the  righteousness,  or  unrighteousness  of  men  :  that  that  scene 
will  open  with  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ,  and  we  shall  either 
receive  glory  and  immortality,  if  we  have  obeyed  the  calls  of 
grace  to  virtue  and  holiness  ;  or,  be  doomed  to  the  most  dreadful 
miseries,  if  we  reject  the  counsel  of  God,  and  live  quite  thoughtless 
of  the  great  concerns  of  eternity.  These  considerations  made 
me  prefer  revealed  religion,  in  the  beginning  of  my  rational  life. 
The  morality  of  the  antient  philosophers  I  admired.  With 
delight  I  studied  their  writings,  and  received,  I  gratefully  confess, 
much  improvement  from  them.  But  the  religion  of  our  blessed 
Lord  I  declared  for,  and  look  on  the  promised  Messiah  as  the 
most  consummate  blessing  God  could  bestow,  or  man  receive. 
God  having  raised  up  his  son  Jesus,  sent  him  to  bless  you,  in 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ. 


turning  every  one  of  you  from  your  iniquities.  And  would  men 
but  hear  and  obey  this  life-giving  Redeemer,  his  gospel  would 
restore  reason  and  religion  to  their  rightful  authority  over  man- 
kind ;  and  make  all  virtue,  and  true  goodness,  nourish  in  the  earth. 

But  I  must  observe  that,  by  the  religion  of  the  New  Testament, 
I  do  not  mean  any  of  those  modern  schemes  of  religion,  which 
discover  the  evident  marks  and  signatures  of  superstition  and 
enthusiasm,  or  of  knavery  and  imposture  ;  those  systems  which 
even  miracles  cannot  prove  to  be  true,  because  the  pieties  are 
absurd,  inconsistent,  and  contradictory.  The  notions  that  are 
not  characterized  by  the  reason  of  things,  and  the  moral  fitness 
of  actions,  I  considered  as  repugnant  to  the  veracity,  wisdom 
and  goodness  of  the  Almighty,  and  concluded,  that  that  only  could 
be  Christian  religion,  which  bore  the  visible  marks  and  signatures 
of  benevolence,  social  happiness,  and  moral  fitness,  and  was 
brought  down  from  heaven  to  instruct  mankind  in  the  worship 
of  one  eternal  mind,  and  bring  them  to  repentance,  and  amend- 
ment of  life.  This  was  the  religion  I  found  in  my  Bible.  I  saw 
with  pleasure,  as  I  thoughtfully  went  through  the  divine  pages, 
that  natural  religion  is  the  foundation  and  support  of  revelation  : 
supplies  the  defects  of  nature,  but  never  attempts  to  overthrow 
the  established  principles  of  it,  and  casts  new  light  upon  the 
dictates  of  reason,  but  never  overthrows  them.  Pure  theism, 
and  Christ  the  appointed  Mediator,  Advocate,  and  Judge,  by 
a  commission  from  God  the  Father,  to  me  appeared  to  be  the 
gospel ;  and  the  directions  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  believe  in  one 
supreme  independent  first  cause,  and  worship  in  spirit  and  truth 
this  one  God  and  Father  of  all,  in  the  name  of  Christ  Jesus  ; 
as  the  disciples  of  the  Messiah  ;  to  copy  after  the  life  of  our  blessed 
Saviour,  and  to  the  utmost  of  our  abilities,  obey  all  his  commands. 
This  was  the  religion  I  found  in  the  writings  of  the  apostles,  and 
I  then  determined  to  regard  only  this  gospel  doctrine. 

The  manner  of  my  studying  cosmography  and  mathematics 
is  not  worth  setting  down,  as  there  was  nothing  uncommon  in  it. 
In  the  one  I  only  learned  to  distinguish  climates,  latitudes,  and 
the  four  divisions  of  the  world  ;  the  provinces,  nations,  kingdoms 
and  republics  comprised  therein,  and  to  be  able  to  discourse 
upon  them.  And  in  the  other,  I  went  no  farther  than  to  make 
myself  a  master  of  vulgar  and  decimal  arithmetic,  the  doctrine 
of  infinite  series,  and  the  application  of  algebra,  to  the  higher 
geometry  of  curves.  Algebra  I  was  charmed  with,  and  found  so 
much  pleasure  in  resolving  its  questions,  that  I  have  often  sat 
till  morning  at  the  engaging  work,  without  a  notion  of  its  being 
day  till  I  opened  the  shutters  of  my  closet.  I  recommend  this 
study  in  particular  to  young  gentlemen,  and  am  satisfied,  if  they 
would  but  take  some  pains  at  first  to  understand  it,  they  would 
have  so  great  a  relish  for  its  operations,  as  to  prefer  them  many 


8  THE  LIFE  OF 


an  evening  to  clamorous  pleasures  ;  or,  at  least,  not  be  uneasy 
for  being  alone  now  and  then,  since  their  algebra  was  with  them. 
In  reading  history,  my  last  year's  principal  employment, 
during  my  residence  in  college,  I  began  with  the  best  writers  of 
antient  history  and  ended  with  modern  times,  epochs,  centuries, 
ages  ;  the  extent  of  empires,  kingdoms,  commonwealths  ;  their 
progress,  revolutions,  changes  and  declensions ;  the  number, 
order,  and  qualities  of  the  princes  that  have  reigned  over  those 
states  and  kingdoms,  their  actions  military  and  civil ;  the  char- 
acters and  actions  of  the  great  men  that  nourished  under  them  ; 
and  the  laws,  the  arts,  learning  and  manners,  I  carefully  marked 
down,  and  observed  not  only  how  the  first  governments  were 
formed,  but  what  the  progress  was  of  industry  and  property, 
which  may  be  called  the  generative  principle  of  empire. 

When  I  had  done  with  antient  history,  I  sat  down  to  the  best 
modern  stories  I  could  get,  and  read  of  distant  nations  before  I 
began  to  study  my  country's  constitution,  history  and  laws. 
When  I  had  finished  the  histories  of  France,  Spain,  Italy,  and 
Germany,  and  many  more,  then  I  turned  to  Great  Britain,  and 
in  the  first  place  took  a  view  of  the  English  constitution  and 
government,  in  the  antient  books  of  the  common  law,  and  some 
more  modern  writers,  who  out  of  them  have  given  an  account  of 
this  government.  From  thence  I  proceeded  to  our  history,  and  with 
it  joined  in  every  king's  reign  the  laws  then  made.  This  gave 
me  an  insight  into  the  reason  of  our  statutes,  and  showed  me  the 
true  ground  upon  which  they  came  to  be  made,  and  what  weight 
they  ought  to  have.  By  this  means  I  read  the  history  of  my 
country  with  intelligence,  and  was  able  to  examine  into  the 
excellence  or  defects  of  its  government,  and  to  judge  of  the  fitness 
or  unfit  ness  of  its  orders  and  laws.  By  this  method  I  likewise 
knew  enough  of  the  law  for  an  English  gentleman,  though  quite 
ignorant  of  the  chicane,  or  wrangling  and  captious  part,  and  was 
well  acquainted  with  the  true  measure  of  right  and  wrong.  The 
arts  how  to  avoid  doing  right,  and  to  secure  one's-self  in  doing 
wrong,  I  never  looked  into. 

Thus  did  I  read  history,  and  many  noble  lessons  I  learned  from 
it — just  notions  of  true  worth,  true  greatness,  and  solid  happiness. 
It  taught  me  to  place  merit  where  it  only  lies,  not  in  birth,  not 
in  beauty,  not  in  riches,  not  in  external  show  and  magnificence, 
not  in  voluptuousness  ;  but,  in  a  firm  adherence  to  truth  and 
rectitude  ;  in  an  untainted  heart,  that  would  not  pollute  or 
prostitute  its  integrity  in  any  degree,  to  gain  the  highest  worldly 
honours,  or  to  ward  ofT  the  greatest  worldly  misery.  This  is  true 
magnanimity  :  and  he  alone  can  be  truly  happy,  as  well  as  truly 
great,  who  can  look  down  with  generous  contempt  upon  every- 
thing that  would  tempt  him  to  recede  in  the  smallest  degree  from 
the  paths  of  rigid  honesty,  candour  and  veracity. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


Es  modicus  yoti,  presso  lare,  dulcis  amicis; 
Jam  nunc  astringas  ;  jam  nunc  granaria  laxes; 
Inque  luto  fixum  possis  transcendere  nummum 
Nee  glutto  sorbere  salivam  Mercurialem  ? 
Hsec  mea  sunt,  teneo,  cum  vere  dixeris  :  Esto 
Liberque  ac  sapiens,  praBtoribus  ac  Jove  dextro. 
Sin  tu,  cum  fueris  nostrae  paulo  ante  farina?, 
Pelliculam  veterem  retines,  et  fronte  politus 
Astutam  vapido  servas  sub  pectore  vulpem  ; 
Qua3  dederam  supra,  repeto,  funemque  reduce. 
Nil  tibi  concessit  ratio :  digitum  exere  peccas, 
Et  quid  tarn  parvum  est  ?     Sed  nullo  thure  litabis, 
Hareat  in  stultis  brevis  ut  semuncia  recti 
Hasc  miscere  Nefas  : — 

Are  you  moderate  in  your  desires,  frugal,  and  obliging  to  your 
friends  ?  Do  you  know  when  to  spare,  and  when  to  be  liberal,  as 
occasion  requires  ?  And  can  you  give  a  check  to  your  avarice,  in 
spite  of  all  temptations  which  are  laid  in  your  way?  Can  you 
refrain  from  being  too  greedy  in  your  pursuit  after  riches  ?  When 
you  can  sincerely  affirm  that  you  are  master  of  yourself,  and  of 
all  these  good  qualities,  then  you  are  free  indeed,  and  wise,  by 
the  propitious  power  of  Jove  and  the  Praetor. 

But  if  you  retain  the  old  habits  of  a  slave,  and  harbour  ill  quali- 
ties, under  the  hypocritical  appearance  of  virtue,  you  are  as  much 
a  slave  as  ever,  while  thus  enslaved  to  your  vices.  Philosophy 
gives  no  indulgence  to  vice,  makes  no  allowance  for  any  crime. 
If  in  wagging  your  finger,  you  acted  against  reason,  you  trans- 
gress, though  the  thing  be  of  so  trifling  a  nature.  All  the  sacri- 
fices you  can  offer  will  never  pass  for  a  drachm  of  rectitude,  while 
your  conduct  is  faulty.  Wisdom  is  incompatible  with  folly. 

When  to  be  bountiful,  and  when  to  spare, 
And  never  craving,  or  op  press' d  with  care  ; 
The  baits  of  gifts,  and  money  to  despise, 
And  look  on  wealth  with  undesiring  eyes  ; 
When  thou  can'st  truly  call  these  virtues  thine, 
Be  wise  and  free  by  Heav'n's  consent  and  mine. 

But  thou,  who  lately  of  the  common  strain, 
Wert  one  of  us,  if  still  thou  dost  retain 
The  same  ill  habits,  the  same  follies  too, 
Gloss'd  over  only  with  a  saint-like  show, 
Then  I  resume  the  freedom  which  I  gave, 
Still  thou  art  bound  to  vice,  and  still  a  slave. 
Thou  canst  not  wag  thy  finger,  or  begin 
The  least  slight  motion,  but  it  tends  to  sin. 
How's  this  ?     Not  wag  my  finger,  he  replies  ? 
No,  friend  ;  not  fuming  gums,  nor  sacrifice, 
Can  ever  make  a  madman  free,  or  wise. 
Virtue  and  vice  are  never  in  one  soul : 
A  man  is  wholly  wise,  or  wholly  is  a  fool. 

This  is  the  great  lesson,  that  virtue  alone  is  true  honour,  true 
freedom,  and  solid,  durable  happiness.  It  is  indeed  its  own 
reward.  There  are  no  satisfactions  equal  to,  or  comparable  with 


io  THE  LIFE  OF 


virtuous,  rational  exercises  ;  nor  can  virtuous  dispositions,  and 
well  improved  moral  powers  be  rewarded,  or  receive  happiness 
suited  to  their  nature,  but  from  their  exercises  and  employments 
about  proper  objects.  And  as  virtue  gives  pleasure  here  in  pro- 
portion to  the  improvements  it  makes,  far  beyond  all  that  mere 
sense  can  yield,  in  the  most  advantageous  circumstances  of  out- 
ward enjoyment ;  so  in  a  state  to  come,  it  shall  be  so  placed  as 
its  improvements  require,  that  is,  be  placed  in  circumstances 
that  shall  afford  it  business  or  employment  proportioned  to  its 
capacity,  and  by  means  thereof  the  highest  satisfaction.  Such  a 
basis  for  building  moral  instructions  upon  we  find  in  history. 
We  are  warned  in  some  pages  to  avoid  the  miseries  and  wretched- 
ness which  many  have  fallen  into  by  departing  from  reason  or 
virtue  :  and  in  others,  we  meet  with  such  virtuous  characters  and 
actions,  as  set  forth  the  charms  of  integrity  in  their  full  lustre, 
and  prove  that  virtue  is  the  supreme  beauty,  the  supreme  charm  : 
that  in  keeping  the  precepts  of  moral  rectitude,  we  secure  a  present 
felicity  and  reward  ;  and  have  a  presage  of  those  higher  rewards 
which  await  a  steady  course  of  right  conduct  in  another  world. 
— Glorious,  natural  virtue  !  Would  mankind  but  hearken  to  its 
voice,  and  obey  its  dictates,  there  would  be  no  such  beings  as 
invaders,  delinquents,  and  traitors,  in  this  lower  world.  The 
social  inclinations  and  dispositions  would  for  ever  prevail  over 
the  selfish  appetites  and  passions.  The  law  of  benevolence 
would  be  the  rule  of  life.  The  advancement  of  the  common  good 
would  be  the  work  of  every  man. 

The  case  however  is,  that  the  generality  of  mankind  are  too 
corrupt  to  be  governed  by  the  great  universal  law  of  social  nature, 
and  to  gratify  ambition,  avarice,  and  the  like,  employ  a  cunning 
or  power,  to  seize  the  natural  rights  and  properties  of  others  : 
and  therefore,  to  natural  virtue,  grounded  on  the  reason  and 
fitness  of  things,  in  themselves,  the  first  and  principal  mean  of 
securing  the  peace  and  happiness  of  society,  it  was  necessary  to 
add  two  other  grand  principles,  civil  government  and  religion, 
and  so  have  three  conducible  means  to  social  happiness.  These 
three  are  necessary  to  the  being  of  a  public,  and  of  them,  religion, 
as  I  take  it,  is  of  the  first  consequence  ;  for  the  choice  few  only 
mind  a  natural  virtue,  or  benevolence  flowing  from  the  reason, 
nature,  and  fitness  of  things  :  and  civil  government  cannot  always 
secure  the  happiness  of  mankind  in  particular  cases  :  but  religion, 
rightly  understood,  and  fixed  upon  its  true  and  proper  foundation, 
might  do  the  work,  in  conjunction  with  the  other  two  principles, 
and  secure  the  happiness  of  society.  If  mankind  were  brought 
to  the  belief  and  worship  of  one  only  true  God,  and  to  a  sincere 
obedience  to  his  will,  as  we  have  it  discovered  in  revelation,  I 
think,  appetite  and  passion  would  cease  to  invade  by  violence 
or  fraud,  or  set  up  for  private  interest  in  opposition  to  the  public 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  n 


stock  or  common  good.  But,  alas  !  Religion  is  so  far  from  being 
rightly  understood,  that  it  is  rendered  by  some  explainers  the 
most  'doubtful  and  disputable  thing  in  the  world.  They  have 
given  it  more  phases  than  the  moon,  and  made  it  everything  and 
nothing,  while  they  are  screaming  or  forcing  the  people  into  their 
several  factions.  This  destroys  the  moment  of  religion,  and  the 
multitude  are  thereby  wandering  into  endless  mazes  and  per- 
plexities, and  rendered  a  hairing,  staring,  wrathful  rabble  ;  in- 
stead of  being  transformed  into  such  Christians  as  filled  the 
first  church  at  Jerusalem  ;  Christians  who  acknowledged  and  wor- 
shipped God  the  Father  Almighty,  in  the  name  of  Christ,  that 
is,  under  a  belief  of  that  authority  and  power  which  the  Father  of 
the  universe  has,  for  the  good  of  mankind,  conferred  upon  him  ; 
and  in  humility  and  meekness,  in  mortification  and  self-denial, 
in  a  renunciation  of  the  spirit,  wisdom,  and  honours  of  this  world, 
in  a  love  of  God,  and  desire  of  doing  God's  will,  and  seeking  only 
his  honour,  were,  by  the  gospel,  made  like  unto  Christ.  Golden 
religion  !  Golden  age  !  The  doctrine  of  Christianity  was  then 
a  restoration  of  true  religion  :  the  practice  of  Christianity,  a 
restoration  of  human  nature.  But  now,  alas  !  too  many  ex- 
plainers are  employed  in  darkening  and  making  doubtful  the 
revealed  will  of  God,  and  by  paraphrases,  expositions,  commen- 
taries, notes,  and  glosses,  have  almost  rendered  revelation  useless. 
What  do  we  see  in  the  vast  territories  of  popery,  but  a  perfect 
diabolism  in  the  place  of  the  religion  of  our  Lord  ?  doctrines  the 
most  impious  and  absurd,  the  most  inconsistent  and  contra- 
dictory in  themselves,  the  most  hurtful  and  mischievous  in  their 
consequences  ;  the  whole  supported  by  persecution,  by  the  sophis- 
try of  learned  knaves,  and  the  tricks  of  juggling  priests.  And 
if  we  turn  our  eyes  from  these  regions  of  imposture  and  cruelty, 
to  the  realms  of  protestants,  do  we  not  find  some  learned  Christian 
critics  and  expositors  reducing  the  inspired  writings  to  a  dark 
science  ?  without  regard  to  the  nature  and  intrinsic  character  of 
their  doctrines,  do  they  not  advance  notions  as  true  and  divine, 
which  have  not  one  appearance  of  divine  authority  ?  but  on  the 
contrary,  militate  with  the  reason  of  things,  and  the  moral  fitness 
of  actions  ;  and  are  so  far  from  being  plain  and  clear,  free  from  all 
doubtfulness,  or  ambiguity,  and  suited  to  the  understandings 
and  capacity  of  men,  that  the  darkness  of  them  renders  such  pre- 
tended revelations  of  little  service  ;  and  impeaches  the  veracity, 
wisdom,  and  goodness  of  God  !  Alas  !  too  many  explainers  are 
clamorous,  under  the  infallible  strength  of  their  own  persuasions, 
and  exert  every  power  to  unman  us  into  believers.  How  the 
Apostles  argued  for  the  great  excellency  and  dignity  of  Christian- 
ity is  not  with  them  the  question  ;  so  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge 
from  their  learned  writings  ;  but  the  fathers,  and  our  spiritual 
superiors  have  put  upon  the  sacred  writings  the  proper  expli- 


12  THE  LIFE  OF 


cations  ;  and  we  must  receive  the  truth  as  they  dispense  it  to  us. 
This  is  not  right,  in  my  conception.     I  own  it  does  not  seem  to 
answer  the  end  of  the  Messiah's  coming,  which  was  to  restore 
Reason  and  Religion  to  their  rightful  authority  over  mankind  ; 
and  to  make  all  virtue,  and  true  goodness,  nourish  in  the  earth  ; 
the  most  perfect  blessing  to  be  sure  that  God  could  bestow  on 
man,  or  man  receive  from  God.     This  blessing  we  must  miss, 
if  human  authority  is  to  pin  us  down  to  what  it  pleases  to  call 
sense  of  scripture,  and  will  set  up  the  judgment  of  fallible  men 
as  the  test  of  Christianity.     The  Christian  laity  are  miserable 
indeed,  if  they  be  put  under  an  obligation  to  find  that  to  be  truth 
which  is  taught  by  these  leaders.     In  truth,  we  should  be  un- 
happy men,  with  a  revelation  in  our  churches  and  our  closets, 
if  the  leaders  had  a  right  to  make  their  own  faith  pass  for  the 
faith  of  the  Apostles  ;  or,  if  we  refused  it,  might  lance  the  weapons 
of  this  world  at  their  people.     What  must  we  do  then  as  true 
Christians  ?     I  think  for  myself,   that  we  ought  to  form  our 
judgment,  in  matters  of  faith,  upon  a  strict,  serious  and  impartial 
examination  of  the  holy  scriptures,  without  any  regard  to  the 
judgment  of  others,  or  human  authority  whatever  :  that  we  ought 
to  open  the  sacred  records,  without  minding  any  systems,  and 
from  the  revealed  word  of  God  learn  that  Christianity  does  not 
consist  in  a  jingle  of  unintelligible  sounds,  and  new  fundamentals, 
hewn  out  by  craft,  enthusiasm,  or  bigotry,  and  maintained  with 
an  outrage  of  uncharitable  zeal,  which  delivers  Christians  to  the 
flames  of  an  eternal  hell  :  but,  that  the  heavenly  religion  of  our 
Lord  consists  in  looking  on  the  promised  Messiah,  as  the  most 
consummate  blessing  God  could  bestow,  or  man  receive  ;  and 
that  Jesus  is  that  Messiah  ;  in  acting  according  to  the  rules  of 
the  gospel,  and  in  studying  to  imitate  God,  who  is  the  most  per- 
fect understanding  nature,  in  all  his  moral  perfections  ;  in  be- 
coming the  children  of  God  by  being,  according  to  our  capacity, 
perfect  as  he  is  perfect,  and  holy  as  he  is  holy,  and  merciful  as 
he  is  merciful ;  and  in  our  whole  moral  behaviour  as  like  to  him 
as  possible. 

In  a  word,  to  flee  injustice,  oppression,  intemperance,  impurity, 
pride,  unmercifulness  and  revenge  :  to  practise  justice,  piety, 
temperance,  chastity,  humility,  beneficence,  and  placability  :  to 
turn  from  our  iniquities  to  the  practice  of  all  virtue  :  and  through 
the  alone  mediation  of  the  only-begotten  Son  of  God,  believe  in 
and  worship  the  eternal  mind,  the  one  supreme  spirit,  in  hope  of  a 
glorious  immortality,  through  the  sanctification  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  These  are  the  things  the  Lord  came  down  to  teach  man- 
kind. For  the  New  Testament  itself  then  we  must  declare,  and 
look  upon  it  as  the  only  guide,  or  rule  of  faith.  It  is  now  the  only 
deliverer  of  the  declarations  of  our  Lord  :  and  the  rule  in  our 
inquiry  is,  that  every  thing  necessary  to  be  believed  by  a  Christian, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  13 


is  in  those  books  not  left  to  be  gathered  by  consequences,  or 
implications  ;  but  the  things  necessary  to  obtain  the  favour  of 
God  promised  to  Christians  are  expressly  declared.  If  this  was  not 
the  case — if  things  absolutely  necessary  were  not  expressly 
proclaimed  to  be  so,  the  gospel  revelation  would  be  no  rule  at 
all.* 

But  it  is  time  to  tell  my  reader  the  story  of  the  beautiful  HAR- 
RIET NOEL,  which  I  promised  in  a  preceding  page  (p.  3,  ante). 
On  the  glorious  first  of  August,  before  the  beasts  were  roused  from 
their  lodges,  or  the  birds  had  soared  upwards,  to  pour  forth  their 
morning  harmony  ;  while  the  mountains  and  the  groves  were 
overshadowed  by  a  dun  obscurity,  and  the  dawn  still  dappled  the 
drowsy  east  with  spots  of  grey  ;  in  short,  before  the  sun  was  up, 
or,  with  his  auspicious  presence,  began  to  animate  inferior  nature, 
I  left  my  chamber,  and  with  my  gun  and  dog,  went  out  to  wander 
over  a  pleasant  country.  The  different  aspects  and  the  various 
points  of  view  were  charming,  as  the  light  in  fleecy  rings  increased  ; 
and  when  the  whole  flood  of  day  descended,  the  embellished 
early  scene  was  a  fine  entertainment.  Delighted  with  the  beau- 

*  To  the  plain  and  satisfactory  method  of  seeking  for  the  faith  in  the  sacred  books,  there 
are  many  adversaries  and  many  objections  raised.  There  are,  says  a  great  man,  a  very 
numerous  body  of  Christians  who  know  no  other  guides  but  the  living  guides  of  the  present 
church  ;  and  acknowledge  no  other  faith,  for  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,  but  that 
which  is  now  delivered  to  them  by  their  present  rulers,  as  such. 

To  establish  this  point,  the  greater  part  of  these  lay  down  the  infallibility  of  the  present 
church,  and  of  every  man  of  the  past  ages,  through  whose  mouth,  or  by  whose  hands,  the 
present  traditions  of  faith  have  descended  to  them.  And  this,  indeed,  would  be  a  very  good 
method,  if  that  single  proof  of  infallibility  could  be  proved.  But  this  is  a  point  so  gross 
and  so  utterly  void  of  all  proof,  that  a  great  body  of  the  Christian  world  have  broke  lose 
from  the  power  of  this  monster,  and  declared  for  the  New  Testament  itself,  as  the  only  guide 
or  rule  of  faith  ;  the  only  deliverer  of  the  faith  to  us  of  later  ages. 

When  this  comes  however  to  be  put  in  practice,  too  many  of  the  same  persons  who  set 
the  scriptures  up  as  the  only  guide,  turn  round  on  a  sudden,  and  let  us  know,  that  they  m  can 
by  it,  not  these  sacred  original  writings  themselves,  but  the  interpretations,  or  sense,  put 
upon  them  by  our  spiritual  superiors,  to  which  we  are  bound  to  submit,  and  put  under  an 
obligation  to  find  that  to  be  the  truth  which  is  taught  by  these  leaders. 

But  to  this  we  reply  with  reason,  that  though  we  ought  to  pay  a  regard  of  serious  attention 
to  those  whose  business  it  is  to  find  out  and  dispense  the  truth,  and  show  the  respect  of  a 
due  examination  of  what  they  affirm ;  yet  we  must  not  yield  the  submission  due  only  to 
infallibility.  It  is  our  glory  not  to  submit  to  the  voice  of  any  man.  We  must  reserve  that 
regard,  for  God,  and  for  Christ,  in  matters  of  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints. 

Others,  again,  of  the  reformed,  tell  us,  that  the  surer  way  of  knowing  what  was  delivered 
above  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  is  to  take  the  original  faith  from  the  Councils  and 
Fathers,  grave  and  good  men,  who  met  and  wrote  for  the  settling  of  the  faith.  And  to  this 
we  answer,  that  these  wise  and  good  men  cannot  give  so  good  an  account  of  the  faith  contained 
in  the  original  books  as  the  books  themselves  which  contain  it. 

To  give  an  example  to  the  purpose.  If  we  would  know  the  doctrine  of  the  Church  of  England 
at  the  Reformation,  it  is  not  the  writings  of  particular  divines,  many  years  after  that  period, 
that  we  must  consult ;  or  any  assembly  of  them ;  but  the  authentic  acts  and  declarations, 
and  sermons,  made  and  recorded  at  the  time ;  for  many  of  the  doctrines  thought  essential 
at  the  Reformation,  have  been  since  changed  by  gradual  alterations ;  by  explainers  using 
their  own  style  and  manner  of  expression,  and  introducing  their  own  scheme  of  philosophy, 
and  judgment  in  commenting,  into  the  scheme  of  doctrine  to  be  explained.  This  produces 
great  variation  from  what  was  once  settled.  What  was  once  esteemed  fundamental  is  thereby 
altered.  Let  this  be  applied  to  the  first  Christian  writers,  after  the  Apostles  were  departed, 
and  as  their  language  and  philosophy  were  various,  and  they  differed  from  one  another, 
great  variations  must  creep  into  the  doctrines  delivered  by  them.  It  follows  then,  that 
nothing  but  what  is  recorded  in  the  first  original  books  themselves  can  be  firm  and  stable 
to  us  in  points  of  faith.  In  the  original  books  only  we  can  find  the  faith,  without  that  confu- 
sion and  darkness,  which  human  explications  and  additions  have  brought  in  by  way  of  light. 


14  THE  LIFE  OF 


ties  of  this  morning,  I  climbed  up  the  mountains,  and  traversed 
through  many  a  valley.  The  game  was  plenty,  and  for  full  five 
hours,  I  journeyed  onward,  without  knowing  where  I  was  going, 
or  thinking  of  a  return  to  college. 

About  nine  o'clock  however  I  began  to  grow  very  hungry,  and 
was  looking  round  to  see  if  I  could  discover  any  proper  habi- 
tation to  my  purpose,  when  I  observed  in  a  valley,  at  some  dis- 
tance, something  that  looked  like  a  mansion.  That  way  there- 
fore I  moved,  and  with  no  little  difficulty,  as  I  had  a  precipice 
to  descend,  or  must  go  a  mile  round,  to  arrive  at  the  place  I 
wanted  :  down  therefore  I  marched,  got  a  fall  by  the  way  that 
had  like  to  have  destroyed  me,  and  after  all,  found  it  to  be  a 
shed  for  cattle.  The  bottom  however  was  very  beautiful,  and 
the  sides  of  the  hills  sweetly  copsed  with  little  woods.  The  valley 
is  so  divided,  that  the  rising  sun  gilds  it  on  the  right  hand,  and 
when  declining,  warms  it  on  the  left. 

Veniens  dextrum  latus  aspiciat  Sol, 

Laevum  discedens  curru  fugiente  vaporet. 

A  pretty  brook  here  likewise  babbles  along,  and  even  Hebrus 
strays  not  round  Thrace  with  a  purer  and  cooler  stream. 

Fons  etiam  rivo  dare  nomen  idoneus,  ut  nee 
Frigidior  Thracam  nee  purior  ambiat  Hebrus. 

In  this  sweet  and  delicious  solitude,  I  crept  on  for  some  time 
by  the  side  of  the  murmuring  stream,  and  followed  as  it  winded 
through  the  vale,  till  I  came  to  a  little  harmonic  building,  that 
had  every  charm  and  proportion  architecture  could  give  it.  It 
was  situated  on  a  rising  ground  in  a  broad  part  of  the  fruitful 
valley,  and  surrounded  with  a  garden,  that  invited  a  pensive 
wanderer  to  roam  in  its  delightful  retreats,  and  walks  amazingly 
beautiful.  Every  side  of  this  fine  spot  was  planted  thick  with 
underwood,  and  kept  so  low,  as  not  to  prevent  a  prospect  to  every 
pleasing  remote  object. 

Finding  one  of  the  garden  doors  left  open,  I  entered  imme- 
diately, and  to  screen  myself  from  the  scorching  beams  of  the  sun, 
got  into  an  embowered  way,  that  led  me  to  a  large  fountain, 
in  a  ring  or  circular  opening,  and  from  thence,  by  a  gradual,  easy, 
shady  ascent,  to  a  semicircular  amphitheatre  of  evergreens,  that 
was  quite  charming.  In  this  were  several  seats  for  ease,  repast, 
or  retirement ;  and  at  either  end  of  it  a  rotunda  or  temple  of  the 
Ionic  order.  One  of  them  was  converted  into  a  grotto  or  shell- 
house,  in  which  a  politeness  of  fancy  had  produced  and  blended 
the  greatest  beauties  of  nature  and  decoration.  The  other  was 
a  library,  filled  with  the  finest  books,  and  a  vast  variety  of  mathe- 
matical instruments.  Here  I  saw  Miss  NOEL  sitting,  and  so 
intent  at  writing,  that  she  did  not  take  any  notice  of  me,  as  I 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  15 

stood  at  the  window,  in  astonishment,  looking  at  the  things 
before  me,  and  especially  at  the  amazing  beauties  of  her  face,  and 
the  splendour  of  her  eyes  ;  as  she  raised  them  now  and  then 
from  the  paper  she  was  writing  on,  to  look  into  a  Hebrew  Bible, 
that  lay  open  upon  a  small  desk  before  her.  The  whole  scene  was 
so  very  uncommon,  and  so  vastly  amazing,  that  I  thought  my- 
self for  a  while  on  some  spot  of  magic  ground,  and  almost  doubted 
the  reality  of  what  my  eyes  beheld  ;  till  Miss  NOEL,  by  accident, 
looked  full  at  me,  and  then  came  forward  to  the  open  window, 
to  know  who  I  wanted. 

Before  I  could  answer,  I  found  a  venerable  old  gentleman 
standing  by  my  side,  and  he  seemed  much  more  surprised  at  the 
sight  of  me  than  his  daughter  was  ;  for,  as  this  young  lady  told 
me  afterward,  she  guessed  at  once  the  whole  affair  ;  seeing  me 
with  my  gun  and  dog,  in  a  shooting  dress  ;  and  knew  it  was  a 
natural  curiosity  brought  me  into  the  garden,  and  stopped  me 
at  the  window,  when  I  saw  her  in  such  an  attitude,  and  in  such  a 
place.  This  I  assured  them  was  the  truth  of  my  case,  with  this 
small  addition,  however,  that  I  was  ready  to  perish  for  want  of 
something  to  eat ;  having  been  from  four  in  the  morning  at  hard 
exercise,  and  had  not  yet  broke  my  fast.  If  this  be  the  case, 
says  the  good  old  man,  you  are  welcome,  sir,  to  Eden  Park,  and 
you  shall  soon  have  the  best  breakfast  our  house  affords. 

Upon  this  Mr.  NOEL  brought  me  into  his  house,  and  the  lovely 
HARRIET  made  tea  for  me,  and  had  such  plenty  of  fine  cream, 
and  extraordinary  bread  and  butter  set  before  me,  that  I  break- 
fasted with  uncommon  pleasure.  The  honour  and  happiness 
of  her  company  rendered  the  repast  quite  delightful.  Inhere  was 
a  civility  so  very  great  in  her  manner,  and  a  social  goodness  so 
charming  in  her  talk  and  temper,  that  it  was  unspeakable  de- 
light to  sit  at  table  with  her.  She  asked  me  a  number  of  ques- 
tions relating  to  things  and  books  and  people,  and  there  was  so 
much  good  sense  in  every  inquiry,  so  much  good  humour  in  her 
reflections  and  replications,  that  I  was  entirely  charmed  with  her 
mind  ;  and  lost  in  admiration,  when  I  contemplated  the  wonders 
of  her  face,  and  the  beauties  of  her  person. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  it  was  time  for  me  to  depart,  and  I 
made  half  a  dozen  attempts  to  rise  from  my  chair  ;  but  without 
her  laying  a  rosy  finger  on  me,  this  illustrious  maid  had  so  totally 
subdued  my  soul,  and  deprived  me  of  all  motive  power,  that 
I  sat  like  the  renowned  Prince  of  the  Massagetes,  who  was  stiffen- 
ed by  enchantment  in  the  apartment  of  the  Princess  Phedima, 
as  we  read  in  Amadis  de  Gaul.  This  Miss  NOEL  saw  very  plain, 
and  in  compassion  to  my  misfortune  generously  threw 
in  a  hint  now  and  then,  for  a  little  farther  conversation  to 
colour  my  unreasonable  delay.  But  this  could  not  have  been  of 
service  much  longer,  as  the  clock  had  struck  twelve,  if  the  old 


1 6  THE  LIFE  OF 


gentleman,  her  father,  had  not  returned  to  us,  and  told  me,  he 
insisted  on  my  staying  to  dine  with  him  ;  for  he  loved  to  take  a 
glass  after  dinner  with  a  facetious  companion,  and  would  be 
obliged  to  me  for  my  company.  "  At  present,"  continued  he, 
"  you  will  excuse  me,  sir,  as  business  engages  me  till  we  dine  ; 
but  my  daughter  will  chat  the  hours  away  with  you,  and  show 
you  the  curiosities  of  her  library  and  grot.  HARRIET  will  supply 
my  place." 

This  was  a  delightful  invitation  indeed,  and  after  returning 
my  hearty  thanks  to  the  old  gentleman  for  the  favour  he  did  me, 
I  addressed  myself  to  Miss  NOEL,  when  her  father  was  gone, 
and  we  were  walking  back  to  the  library  in  the  garden,  and  told 
her  ingenuously,  that  though  I  could  not  be  positive  as  to  the 
situation  of  my  soul,  whether  I  was  in  love  with  her  or  not,  as  I 
never  had  experienced  the  passion  before,  nor  knew  what  it  was  to 
admire  a  woman,  having  lived  till  that  morning  in  a  state  of 
indifference  to  her  sex,  yet  I  found  very  strange  emotions  within 
me,  and  I  was  sure  I  could  not  leave  her  without  the  most  lively 
and  afflicting  inquietude.  "  You  will  pardon,  I  hope,  madam,  this 
effusion  of  my  heart,  and  surfer  me  to  demonstrate  by  a  thousand 
and  a  thousand  actions,  that  I  honour  you  in  a  manner  unutterable, 
and,  from  this  time,  can  imagine  no  happiness  but  with  you." 

"  Sir,"  this  inimitable  maid  replied,  "  you  are  an  entire  stranger 
to  me,  and  to  declare  a  passion  on  a  few  hours'  acquaintance, 
must  be  either  to  try  my  weakness,  or  because  you  think  a  young 
woman  is  incapable  of  relishing  any  thing  but  such  stuff,  when 
alone  in  conversation  with  a  gentleman.  I  beg  then  I  may  hear 
no  more  of  this  ;  and  as  I  am  sure  you  can  talk  upon  many  more 
rational  subjects,  request  your  favour  to  give  me  your  opinion 
on  some  articles  in  this  Hebrew  Bible  you  see  lying  open  on  the 
table  in  this  room.  My  father,  sir,  among  other  things,  has  taken 
great  pains  to  instruct  me,  for  several  years  that  I  have  lived 
with  him  in  a  kind  of  solitary  state,  since  the  death  of  my  mother, 
whom  I  lost  when  I  was  very  young,  and  has  taught  me  to  read 
and  understand  this  inspired  Hebrew  book  ;  and  says  we  must 
ascribe  primaevity  and  sacred  prerogatives  to  this  language. 
For  my  part,  I  have  some  doubts  as  to  this  matter,  which  I 
dare  not  mention  to  my  father.  Tell  me,  if  you  please,  what  you 
think  of  the  thing  ?  " 

"  Miss  NOEL,"  I  answered,  "  since  it  is  your  command  that 
I  should  be  silent  as  to  that  flame  your  glorious  eyes  and  under- 
standing have  lighted  up  in  my  soul,  like  some  superior  nature, 
before  whom  I  am  nothing,  silent  I  will  be,  and  tell  you  what  I 
fancy  on  a  subject  I  am  certain  you  understand  much  better  than 
I  do.  My  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  is  but  small,  though  I  have 
learned  to  read  and  understand  the  Old  Testament  in  the  ante- 
Babel  language. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ. 


"  My  opinion  on  your  question  is,  that  the  Biblical  Hebrew 
was  the  language  of  Paradise,  and  continued  to  be  spoken  by 
all  men  down  to,  and  at  the  time  of  Moses  writing  the  Pentateuch, 
and  long  after.  Abraham,  though  bred  in  Chaldea,  could  con- 
verse freely  with  the  Egyptians,  the  Sodomites,  and  the  King 
of  Gerar  ;  nor  do  we  find  that  any  variety  of  speech  interrupted 
the  commerce  of  his  son  Isaac  with  the  several  nations  around, 
or  that  it  ever  stopped  Jacob  in  his  travels.  Nay,  the  Israelites, 
in  their  journeys  through  the  deserts  of  Arabia,  after  they  had 
been  some  hundred  years  in  Egypt,  though  joined  by  a  mixed 
multitude,  and  meeting  with  divers  kinds  of  people,  had  not 
corrupted  their  language,  and  were  easily  understood,  because 
it  was  then  the  universal  one.  The  simplicity  and  distinctness 
of  the  Hebrew  tongue  preserved  its  purity  so  long  and  so  univer- 
sally. It  could  not  well  be  degenerate  till  the  knowledge  of  nature 
was  lost,  as  its  words  consist  but  of  two  or  three  letters,  and  are 
perfectly  well  suited  to  convey  sensible  and  strong  ideas.  It  was 
at  the  captivity,!  in  the  space  of  seventy  years,  that  the  Jews 
by  temporising  with  the  ignorant  victors,  so  far  neglected  the 
usage  of  their  own  tongue,  that  none  but  the  scribes  or  learned 
men  could  understand  Moses's  books." 

"  This,  I  confess,"  said  Miss  NOEL,  "  is  a  plausible  account 
of  the  primaevity  and  pre-eminence  of  the  sacred  Hebrew,  but 
I  think  it  is  not  necessary  the  account  should  be  allowed  as 
fact.  As  to  its  being  the  language  in  Paradise,  this  is  not  very 
probable,  as  a  compass  of  eighteen  hundred  years  must  have 
changed  the  first  language  very  greatly  by  an  increase  of  words 
and  new  inflections,  applications,  and  constructions  of  them. 
The  first  few  inhabitants  of  the  earth  were  occupied  in  few  things, 
and  wanted  not  a  variety  of  words  ;  but  when  their  descendants 
invented  arts  and  improved  sciences,  they  were  obliged  to  coin 
new  words  and  technical  terms,  and  by  extending  and  transferring 
their  words  to  new  subjects,  and  using  them  figuratively,  were 
forced  to  multiply  the  senses  of  those  already  in  use.  The  language 
was  thus  gradually  cultivated,  and  every  age  improved  it. 
All  living  languages  are  liable  to  such  change.  I  therefore  con- 
clude, that  the  language  which  served  the  first  pair  would  not 
do  for  succeeding  generations.  It  became  vastly  more  copious 
and  extensive,  when  the  numbers  of  mankind  were  great,  and 
their  language  must  serve  conversation  and  the  ends  of  life, 
and  answer  all  the  purposes  of  intelligence  and  correspondence. 
New  words  and  new  terms  of  speech,  from  time  to  time,  were 
necessary,  to  give  true  ideas  of  the  things,  actions,  offices,  places, 

t  The  captivity  here  spoken  of  began  at  Nebuzaradan's  taking  and  burning  the  city  and 
temple  of  Jerusalem,  and  sending  Zedekiah,  the  last  king,  in  chains,  to  Nebuchadnezzar, 
who  ordered  his  children  to  be  butchered  before  his  face,  his  eyes  to  be  put  out,  and  then 
thrown  in  to  a  dungeon,  where  he  died.  This  happened  before  our  Lord,  588  years  ;  after  the 
flood,  1766;  of  the  world,  3416. 


1 8  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  times  peculiar  to  the  Hebrews.  Even  Hutchinson  allows 
there  was  some  coinage,  some  new  words  framed.  We  find  in 
the  latter  prophets  words  not  to  be  met  with  in  the  Pentateuch  : 
and  from  thence  we  may  suppose,  that  Moses  used  words  un- 
known to  Nimrod  and  Heber  :  and  that  the  men  at  Shinaar  * 
had  words  which  the  people  before  the  flood  were  strangers  to. 
Even  in  the  seventeenth  century,  there  must  have  been  a  great 
alteration  in  the  language  of  Adam  ;  and  when  the  venerable 
Patriarch  and  his  family  came  into  a  new  world,  that  was  in  a 
different  state  from  the  earth  before  the  deluge,  and  saw  a  vast 
variety  of  things  without  precedent  in  the  old  world,  the  altera- 
tions in  nature  and  diet,  must  introduce  a  multitude  of  new  terms 
in  things  of  common  experience  and  usage  ;  as,  after  that 
amazing  revolution  in  the  natural  world,  not  only  the  clouds 
and  meteors  were  different,  and  the  souls  that  were  saved  had 
a  new  and  astonishing  view  of  the  ruin  and  repair  of  the  system  ; 
but  Noah  did  then  begin  to  be  an  husbandman  ;  he  planted  a 
vineyard  ;  he  invented  wine  ;  and  to  him  the  first  grant  was 
given  of  eating  flesh.  All  these  things  required  as  it  were  a  new 
language,  and  the  terms  with  mankind  increased.  The  Noahical 
language  must  be  quite  another  thing  after  the  great  events  of 
the  flood.  Had  Methuselah,  who  conversed  many  years  with 
Adam  ;  who  received  from  his  mouth  the  history  of  the  creation 
and  fall,  and  who  lived  six  hundred  years  with  Noah,  to  com- 
municate to  him  all  the  knowledge  he  got  from  Adam  ;  had  this 
ante-diluvian  wise  man  been  raised  from  the  dead  to  converse 
with  the  post-diluvian  fathers,  or  even  with  Noah,  the  year  he 
died,  that  is  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  the  flood  ;  is 
it  not  credible  from  what  I  have  said,  that  he  would  have 
heard  a  language  very  different  from  that  tongue  he  used  in 
his  conversations  with  Adam  even  in  the  nine  hundred  and 
thirtieth  year  of  the  first  man  ?  f  I  imagine,  Methuselah  would 

*  Shinaar  comprehends  the  plain  of  Chaldea  or  Babylonia  in  Asia ;  and  the  "  men  of 
Shinaar  "  were  the  first  colony  that  Noah  sent  out  from  Ararat,  the  mountains  of  Armenia, 
where  the  Ark  rested  after  the  flood,  to  settle  in  the  grand  plains  of  Babylonia,  twelve  hundred 
miles  from  Ararat.  This  was  in  the  days  of  Peleg,  two  hundred  and  forty  years  after  the 
flood,  when  the  eight  had  increased  to  sixty  thousand  ;  which  made  a  remove  of  part  of  them 
necessary. 

f  The  extraordinary  longevity  of  the  ante-diluvians  is  accounted  utterly  incredible  by 
many  moderns  ;  but  it  did  not  appear  so  unnatural  to  the  early  ages  of  Paganism.  Let 
no  one,  says  Josephus,  upon  comparing  the  lives  of  the  antients  with  our  lives,  and  with 
the  few  years  which  we  now  live,  think  that  what  we  have  said  of  them  is  false.  I  have 
for  witness  to  what  I  have  said,  all  those  who  have  written  antiquities,  both  among  the  Greeks 
and  Barbarians.  For  even  Manetho,  who  wrote  the  Egyptian  History  ;  and  Berosus,  who 
collected  the  Chaldean  Monuments  ;  and  Mochus  and  Hostiaeus  ;  and  besides  these,  Hierony- 
mus  the  Egyptian,  and  those  who  composed  the  Phoenician  history,  agree  to  what  I  here 
say.  Hesiod  also,  and  Hecutaeus,  and  Hallanicus,  and  Acusilaus  ;  and  besides  these,  Ephorus 
and  Nicolaus  of  Damascus,  relate  that  the  ancients  lived  a  thousand  years. 

The  antient  Latin  authors  likewise  confirm  the  sacred  history  in  this  branch  :  and  Varro 
in  particular,  made  an  enquiry,  What  the  reason  was  that  the  antients  lived  a  thousand 
years  ? 

[The  author  had  here  promised  "  a  continuation  of  this  note  in  the  Appendix."  but  it 
may  be  proper  to  notice,  that  the  first  volume  of  this  work  was  printed  in  1756,  and  the  second 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  19 

not  have  been  able  to  have  talked  with  Noah,  at  the  time 
I  have  mentioned,  of  the  circumstances  that  then  made  the 
case  of  mankind,  and  of  the  things  of  common  experience  and 
usage.  He  must  have  been  unable  to  converse  at  his  first 
appearance  ?  " 

"  What  you  say,  madam/'  I  replied,  "  is  not  only  very  probable, 
but  affords  a  satisfaction  unexpected  in  a  subject  on  which  we 
are  obliged,  for  want  of  data,  to  use  conjectures.  I  yield  to  your 
superior  sense  the  notion,  that  the  Scriptures  were  written  in 
the  language  of  Paradise.  Most  certain  it  is,  that  even  in  respect 
of  our  own  language,  for  example,  the  subjects  of  Henry  I 
would  find  it  as  much  out  of  their  power  to  understand  the  English 
of  George  the  First's  reign,  were  they  brought  up  again,  as  the 
ordinary  people  of  our  time  are  at  a  loss  to  make  anything  of 
the  English  written  in  the  first  Henry's  reign.  But  when  I  have 
granted  this,  you  will  be  pleased  to  inform  me,  how  Abraham 
and  his  sons  conversed  and  commerced  with  the  nations,  if  the 
Hebrew  was  not  the  universal  language  in  their  time  ?  If  the 
miracle  at  Babel  was  a  confusion  of  tongues,  as  is  generally 
supposed,  how  did  the  holy  family  talk  and  act  with  such  distant 
kings  and  people  ?  Illuminate  me,  thou  glorious  girl,  in  this 
dark  article,  and  be  my  teacher  in  Hebrew  learning,  as  I  flatter 
myself  you  will  be  the  guide  and  dirigent  of  all  my  notions  and 
my  days.  Yes,  charming  HARRIET,  my  fate  is  in  your  hands. 
Dispose  of  it  as  you  will,  and  make  me  what  you  please." 

"  You  force  me  to  smile,"  the  illustrious  Miss  NOEL  replied, 
"  and  oblige  me  to  call  you  an  odd  compound  of  a  man.  Pray, 
sir,  let  me  have  no  more  of  those  romantic  flights,  and  I  will 
answer  your  question  as  well  as  I  can  ;  but  it  must  be  at  some 
other  time.  There  is  more  to  be  said  on  the  miracle  at  Babel, 
and  its  effects,  than  I  could  dispatch  between  this  and  our  hour 
of  dining,  and  therefore,  the  remainder  of  our  leisure  till  dinner, 
we  will  pass  in  a  visit  to  my  grotto,  and  in  walking  round  the 
garden  to  the  parlour  we  came  from."  To  the  grotto  then  we 
went,  and  to  the  best  of  my  power  I  will  give  my  reader  a  descrip- 
tion of  this  splendid  room. 

In  one  of  the  fine  rotundas  I  have  mentioned,  at  one  end  of  the 
green  amphitheatre  very  lately  described,  the  shining  apartment 
was  formed.  Miss  NOEL'S  hand  had  covered  the  floor  with  the 
most  beautiful  mosaic  my  eyes  have  ever  beheld,  and  filled  the 
arched  roof  with  the  richest  fossil  gems.  The  mosaic  painting 
on  the  ground  was  wrought  with  small  coloured  stones  or  pebbles, 
and  sharp  pointed  bits  of  glass,  measured  and  proportioned 

to  which  the  Appendix  was  to  have  been  added,  did  not  make  its  appearance  till  1766,  and 
then  without  the  promised  addition.  What  the  Appendix  was  intended  to  comprise  will  be 
found  more  fully  noticed  in  the  introductory  portion  to  this  volume.  The  material  connected 
with  the  dispersion  at  Babel,  was  derived  by  the  author,  from  Blomberg's  Life  of  Edmund 
Dickinson,  M.D.,  1739,  8vo,  of  which  subsequent  notice  will  be  made.  ED.] 


20  THE  LIFE    OF 


together,  so  as  to  imitate  in  their  assemblage  the  strokes  and 
colour  of  the  objects,  which  they  were  intended  to  represent, 
and  they  represented  by  this  lady's  art,  the  Temple  of  Tranquillity' 
described  by  Volusenus  in  his  dream. 

At  some  distance  the  fine  temple  looks  like  a  beautiful  painted 
picture,  as  do  the  birds,  the  beasts,  the  trees  in  the  fields  about 
and  the  river  which  murmurs  at  the  bottom  of  the  rising  ground  ; 
•'  Amnis  lucidus  et  vadosus  in  quo  earner  e  BY  at  verii  generis  pisces 
colludere."  So  wonderfully  did  this  genius  perform  the  piece, 
that  fishes  of  many  kinds  seem  to  take  their  pastime  in  the  bright 
stream.  But  above  all,  is  the  image  of  the  philosopher,  at  the 
entrance  of  the  temple,  vastly  fine.  With  pebbles  and  scraps  of 
glass,  all  the  beauties  and  graces  are  expressed,  which  the  pencil 
of  an  able  artist  could  bestow  on  the  picture  of  Democritus. 
You  see  him  as  Diogenes  Laertius  has  drawn  him,  with  a  philoso- 
phical joy  in  his  countenance,  that  shews  him  superior  to  all  events. 
Summum  bonorum  finem  statuit  esse  l&titiam,  non  earn  quae  sit 
eadem  voluptati,  sed  earn  per  quam  animus  degit  perturbationis 
expers  ;  and  with  a  finger,  he  points  to  the  following  golden 
inscription  on  the  portico  of  the  temple  : 

Flagrans  sit  studium  bene  merendi  de  seipso, 
Et  seipsum  perficiendi. 

That  is,  "  by  a  rectitude  of  mind  and  life,  secure  true  happiness 
and  the  applause  of  your  own  heart,  and  let  it  be  the  labour 
of  your  every  day,  to  come  as  near  perfection  as  it  is  possible 
for  human  nature  to  get."  This  mosaic  piece  of  painting  is  indeed 
an  admirable  thing.  It  has  a  fine  effect  in  this  grotto  and  is  a 
noble  monument  of  the  masterly  hand  of  Miss  NOEL. 

Nor  was  her  fine  genius  less  visible  in  the  striking  appearance 
of  the  extremely  beautiful  shells  and  valuable  curiosities,  all  round 
the  apartment.  Her  father  spared  no  cost  to  procure  her  the 
finest  things  of  the  ocean  and  rivers  from  all  parts  of  the  world, 
and  pebbles,  stones,  and  ores  of  the  greatest  curiosity  and  worth. 
These  were  all  disposed  in  such  a  manner  as  not  only  shed  a 
glorious  lustre  in  the  room,  but  shewed  the  understanding  of  this 
young  lady  in  natural  knowledge. 

In  one  part  of  the  grot  were  collected  and  arranged  the  stony 
coverings  of  all  the  shell-fish  in  the  sea,  from  the  striated  patella 
and  its  several  species,  to  the  pholades  in  all  their  species  ;  and 
of  those  that  live  in  the  fresh  streams,  from  the  suboval  limpet 
or  umbonated  patella  and  its  species,  to  the  triangular  and  deeply 
striated  cardia.  Even  all  the  land  shells  were  in  this  collection, 
from  the  pomatia  to  the  round-mouthed  turbo.  The  most 
beautiful  genera  of  the  sea-shells,  intermixed  with  fossil  corals 
of  all  the  kinds  ;  with  animal  substances  become  fossil ;  and  with 
copper-ores,  agates,  pebbles,  pieces  of  the  finest  marmora  and 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  21 

alabastritae,  and  the  most  elegant  and  beautiful  marcasites, 
and  crystals,  and  spars.  These  filled  the  greatest  part  of  the 
walls,  and  in  classes,  here  and  there,  were  scattered,  as  foils  to 
raise  the  lustre  of  the  others,  the  inferior  shells. 

Among  the  simple  sea-shells,  that  is,  those  of  one  shell,  without 
a  hinge,  I  saw  several  rare  ones,  that  were  neither  in  Mrs.  O'HARA'S 
nor  in  Mrs.  CRAFTON'S  grottos  in  Fingal,  as  I  observed  to  those 
ladies.*  The  shells  I  mean  are  the  following  ones. 

The  SEA-TRUMPET,  which  is  in  its  perfect  state,  nine  inches 
long,  an  inch  and  half  diameter  at  its  mouth  or  irregular  lip, 
and  the  opening  at  the  small  end  about  half  an  inch.  The  surface 
is  a  beautiful  brown,  prettily  spotted  with  white,  and  the  pipe 
has  fourteen  annular  ridges  that  are  a  little  elevated,  and  of  a 
fine  purple  colour. 

The  ADMIRAL  is  vastly  beautiful,  a  voluta  two  inches  and  a 
half  long,  and  an  inch  in  diameter  at  the  head,  from  whence  it 
decreases  to  a  cone  with  an  obtuse  point.  The  ground  colour 
is  the  brightest,  elegant  yellow,  finer  than  that  of  Sienna  marble, 
and  this  ground  so  variegated  with  the  brightest  colours,  that  a 
little  more  than  a  third  part  of  the  ground  is  seen.  Broad  fasciae, 
the  most  charmingly  varied,  surround  it,  and  the  clavicle  is  the 
most  elegant  of  objects  in  colours,  brightness,  and  irregularities. 
There  is  a  punctuated  line  of  variations  that  runs  in  the  centre  of 
the  yellow  fascia,  and  is  wonderfully  pretty.  This  beautiful 
East-Indian  sells  at  a  great  price. 

The  CROWN  IMPERIAL  is  likewise  extremely  beautiful.  This 
voluta  is  four  inches  long,  two  in  diameter  at  the  top,  and  its 
head  adorned  with  a  charming  series  of  fine  tubercles,  pointed 
at  the  extremities.  The  ground  is  a  clear  pale,  and  near  the  head 
and  extremity  of  the  shell,  two  very  beautiful  zones  run  round. 
They  are  of  the  brightest  yellow,  and  in  a  manner  the  most 
elegant,  are  variegated  with  black  and  white  purple.  It  is  also 
an  East-Indian. 

*  I  had  once  a  sweet  little  country  house  in  the  neighbourhood  of  those  ladies,  and  used 
to  be  often  at  their  gardens  and  grottos.  Mrs.  CRAFTON  had  the  finest  shells,  but  her  grot 
was  dull  and  regular,  and  had  no  appearance  of  nature  in  the  formation.  She  was  a  pious 
plain,  refined  lady,  but  had  not  a  fancy  equal  to  the  operation  required  in  a  shell-house. 

The  excellent,  the  polite,  the  well-bred,  the  good  and  unfortunate  Mrs.  O'HARA  had  a 
glorious  fancy.  She  was  a  genius,  and  had  an  imagination  that  formed  a  grotto  wild  and 
charming  as  Calypso's.  Her  fancy  did  likewise  form  the  garden,  in  which  the  grotto  stood 
near  the  margin  of  a  flood,  into  a  paradise  of  delights.  Many  a  pleasing,  solitary  hour,  have 
I  passed  in  this  charming  place  ;  and  at  last  saw  all  in  ruins  ;  the  garden  in  disorder,  and 
every  fine  shell  torn  from  the  grotto.  Such  are  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  first  state  ; 
changes  wisely  designed  by  Providence  as  warnings  not  to  set  up  our  rest  here  :  that  we 
may  turn  our  hearts  from  this  world  and  with  all  our  might  labour  for  that  life  which  shall 
never  perish. 

What  ruined  Mrs.  O'HARA'S  grotto  deprived  me  of  my  little  green  and  shady  retreat. 
CHARLES  O'HARA,  this  lady's  husband,  a  strange  man,  from  whom  I  rented  my  pretty  farm, 
and  to  whom  I  had  paid  a  fine  to  lower  the  rent,  had  mortgaged  it,  unknown  to  me,  to  the 
famous  DAMER,  and  that  powerful  man  swallowed  all.  All  I  had  there  was  seized  for  arrears 
of  interest  due  of  Mr.  O'HARA,  and  as  I  was  ever  liable  to  distrainment,  I  took  my  leave  of 
Fingal. 


22  THE  LIFE  OF 


The  HEBREW  LETTER,  another  voluta,  is  a  fine  curiosity.  It 
is  two  inches  in  length,  and  an  inch  and  a  quarter  in  diameter 
at  the  top.  It  is  a  regular  conic  figure,  and  its  exerted  clavicle 
has  several  volutions.  The  ground  is  like  the  white  of  a  fine 
pearl,  and  the  body  all  over  variegated  with  irregular  marks  of 
black,  which  have  a  near  resemblance  of  the  Hebrew  characters. 
This  elegant  shell  is  an  East-Indian. 

The  WHITE  VOLUTA,  with  brown  and  blue  and  purple  spots. 
This  very  elegant  shell,  whose  ground  is  a  charming  white,  is 
found  on  the  coast  of  Guinea,  from  five  to  six  inches  in  length, 
and  its  diameter  at  the  head  often  three  inches.  It  tapers  gradu- 
ally, and  at  the  extremity  is  a  large  obtuse.  Its  variegations  in 
its  spots  are  very  beautiful,  and  its  spots  are  principally  disposed 
in  many  circles  round  the  shell. 

The  BUTTERFLY  is  a  voluta  the  most  elegant  of  this  beautiful 
genus.  Its  length  is  five  inches  in  its  perfection,  and  two  and  a 
half  broad  at  the  head.  The  body  is  an  obtuse  cone  :  the  clavicle 
is  pointed,  and  in  several  volutions.  The  ground  is  the  finest 
yellow,  and  beautified  all  over  with  small  brown  spots,  in  regular 
and  round  series.  These  variegations  are  exceeding  pretty,  and 
as  this  rare  East-Indian  shell  has  beside  these  beauties  three 
charming  bands  round  the  body,  which  are  formed  of  large  spots 
of  a  deep  brown,  a  pale  brown,  and  white,  and  resemble  the  spots 
on  the  wings  of  butterflies,  it  is  a  beautiful  species  indeed.  The 
animal  that  inhabits  this  shell  is  a  Umax. 

The  TULIP  CYLINDER  is  a  very  scarce  and  beautiful  native  of 
the  East-Indies,  and  in  its  state  of  perfection  and  brightness  of 
colour,  of  great  value.  Its  form  is  cylindric,  its  length  four  inches, 
and  its  diameter  two  and  a  half,  at  its  greatest  increase.  Its 
clavicle  has  many  volutions,  and  terminates  in  an  obtuse  point. 
The  ground  colour  is  white,  and  its  variegations  blue  and  brown. 
They  are  thrown  into  irregular  clouds  in  the  most  beautiful 
manner,  and  into  some  larger  and  smaller  spots.  The  Umax  in- 
habits this  fine  shell. 

I  likewise  saw  in  this  grotto  the  finest  species  of  the  purpura, 
the  dolia,  and  the  porcellana.  There  was  of  the  first  genus  the 
thorny  woodcock  :  of  the  second  the  harp  shell  :  and  of  the  third, 
the  argus  shell. 

The  THORNY  WOODCOCK  is  ventricose,  and  approaches  to  an 
oval  figure.  Its  length,  full  grown,  is  five  inches  ;  the  clavicle 
short,  but  in  volutions  distinct  ;  and  its  rostrum  from  the  mouth 
twice  the  length  of  the  rest  of  the  shell.  This  snout  and  the 
body  have  four  series  of  spines,  generally  an  inch  and  a  half  long, 
pointed  at  the  ends,  and  somewhat  crooked.  The  spines  lie  in 
regular,  longitudinal  series.  The  mouth  is  almost  round,  but  the 
opening  is  continued  in  the  form  of  a  slit  up  the  rostrum.  The 
colour  of  this  American,  and  extremely  elegant  shell,  is  a  tawny 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  23 

yellow,  with  a  fine  mixture  of  a  lively  brown,  and  by  bleaching 
on  the  coasts,  it  gets  many  spots  of  white. 

The  BEAUTIFUL  HARP  is  a  Chinese  ;  three  inches  and  a  half  long, 
and  two  and  a  half  in  diameter.  The  shell  is  tumid  and  inflated, 
and  at  the  head  largest.  It  has  an  oblong  clavicle  in  several 
volutions,  pointed  at  the  extremity,  and  the  other  extreme  is  a 
short  rostrum.  The  whole  surface  is  ornamented  with  elevated 
ribs,  that  are  about  twice  as  thick  as  a  straw,  and  as  distant 
from  each  other  as  the  thickness  of  four  straws.  The  colour  is  a 
fine  deep  brown,  variegated  with  white  and  a  paler  brown,  in  a 
manner  surprisingly  beautiful. 

The  extremely  elegant  ARGUS  is  from  the  coast  of  Africa,  and 
is  sometimes  found  in  the  East-Indies.  Its  length,  in  a  state  of 
perfection,  is  four  inches  and  a  half  ;  its  diameter  three.  It  is 
oblong  and  gibbous,  has  a  wide  mouth,  and  lips  so  continued 
beyond  the  verge,  as  to  form  at  each  extremity  a  broad  and  short 
beak.  The  colour  is  a  fine  pale  yellow,  and  over  the  body  are 
three  brown  fasciae  :  but  the  whole  surface,  and  those  fasciae  are 
ornamented  with  multitudes  of  the  most  beautiful  round  spots, 
which  resemble  eyes  in  the  wings  of  the  finest  butterflies.  The 
Umax  inhabits  this  charming  shell.  This  creature  is  the  sea- 
snail. 

The  CONCHA  OF  VENUS  was  the  next  shell  in  this  young  lady's 
collection  that  engaged  my  attention.  One  of  them  was  three 
inches  long,  and  two  and  a  half  in  diameter.  The  valves  were 
convex,  and  in  longitudinal  direction  deeply  striated.  The 
hinge  at  the  prominent  end  was  large  and  beautifully  wrought, 
and  the  opening  of  the  shell  was  covered  with  the  most  elegant 
wrinkled  lips,  of  the  most  beautiful  red  colour,  finely  intermixed 
with  white  ;  these  lips  do  not  unite  in  the  middle,  but  have 
slender  and  beautiful  spines  round  about  the  truncated  ends  of 
the  shell.  This  shell  of  Venus  is  an  American,  and  valued  by  the 
collectors  at  a  high  rate. 

But  of  all  the  curious  shells  in  this  wonderful  collection,  the 
HAMMER  OYSTER  was  what  I  wondered  at  most  ;  it  is  the  most 
extraordinary  shell  in  the  world.  It  resembles  a  pick-ax,  with  a 
very  short  handle  and  a  long  head.  The  body  of  the  shell  is 
in  the  place  of  the  handle  of  the  instrument,  and  is  four  inches 
and  a  half  long,  and  one  inch  and  a  half  in  diameter.  What 
answered  to  the  head  of  the  pick-ax  was  seven  inches  long,  and 
three  quarters  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  This  head  terminates  at 
each  end  in  a  narrow  obtuse  point,  is  uneven  at  the  edges,  irregular 
in  its  make,  and  lies  crosswise  to  the  body  :  yet  the  valves  shut 
in  the  closest  and  most  elegant  manner.  The  edges  are  deeply 
furrowed  and  plaited,  and  the  lines  run  in  irregular  directions. 
The  colour  without  is  a  fine  mixture  of  brown  and  purple  ;  and 
within  a  pearly  white,  with  a  tinge  of  purple.  This  rare  shell  is  an 


14  THE  LIFE  OF 


East-Indian,  and  whenever  it  appears  at  an  auction  is  rated 
very  high.  I  have  known  ten  guineas  given  for  a  perfect  one. 
With  a  large  quantity  of  these  most  beautiful  shells,  which  are 
rarely  seen  in  any  collections,  and  with  all  the  family  of  the 
pectens,  the  cardiae,  the  solens,  the  cylinderi,  the  murexes,  the 
turbines,  the  buccina,  and  every  specis  of  the  finest  genera  of 
shells,  Miss  NOEL  formed  a  grotto  that  exceeded  every  thing  of 
the  kind  I  believe  in  the  world  ;  all  I  am  sure  that  I  have  seen, 
except  the  late  Mrs.  HARCOURT'S  in  Richmondshire  ;  which  I 
shall  give  my  reader  a  description  of,  when  I  travel  him  up  those 
English  Alpes.  It  was  not  only,  that  Miss  NOEL'S  happy  fancy 
had  blended  all  these  things  in  the  wildest  and  most  beautiful 
disposition  over  the  walls  of  the  rotunda  ;  but  her  fine  genius 
had  produced  a  variety  of  grots  within  her  grotto,  and  falling 
waters,  and  points  of  view.  In  one  place  was  the  famous 
Atalanta,  and  her  delightful  cave  :  and  in  another  part,  the 
Goddess  and  Ulysses'  son  appeared  at  the  entrance  of  that  grot, 
which  under  the  appearance  of  a  rural  plainness  had  every  thing 
that  could  charm  the  eye  :  the  roof  was  ornamented  with  shell- 
work  ;  the  tapestry  was  a  tender  vine,  andt  limpid  fountains 
sweetly  purled  round. 

But  what  above  all  the  finely  fancied  works  in  Miss  NOEL'S 
grotto  pleased  me,  was,  a  figure  of  the  philosopher  Epictetus,  in 
the  centre  of  the  grot.  He  sat  at  the  door  of  a  cave,  by  the  side 
of  a  falling  water,  and  held  a  book  of  his  philosophy  in  his  hand, 
that  was  written  in  the  manner  of  the  antients,  that  is,  on  parch- 
ment rolled  up  close  together.  He  appeared  in  deep  meditation, 
and  as  part  of  the  book  had  been  unfolded  and  gradually  extended, 
from  his  knee  on  the  ground,  one  could  read  very  plain,  in  large 
Greek  characters,  about  fifty  lines.  The  English  of  the  lesson 
was  this — 

"  THE    MASTER    SCIENCE 

"  All  things  have  their  nature,  their  make  and  form,  by  which 
they  act,  and  by  which  they  surfer.  The  vegetable  proceeds 
with  a  perfect  insensibility.  The  brute  possesses  a  sense  of  what 
is  pleasurable  and  painful,  but  stops  at  mere  sensation.  The 
rational,  like  the  brute,  has  all  the  powers  of  mere  sensation,  but 
enjoys  a  farther  transcendent  faculty.  To  him  is  imparted  the 
master-science  of  what  he  is,  where  he  is,  and  the  end  to  which 
he  is  destined.  He  is  directed  by  the  canon  of  reason  to  reverence 
the  dignity  of  his  own  superior  character,  and  never  wretchedly 
degrade  himself  into  a  nature  to  him  subordinate.  The  master- 
science,  he  is  told,  consists  in  having  just  ideas  of  pleasures  and 
pains,  true  notions  of  the  moments  and  consequences  of  different 
actions  and  pursuits,  whereby  he  may  be  able  to  measure,  direct 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  25 

or  controul  his  desires  or  aversions,  and  never  merge  into  miseries. 
Remember  this  Arrianus.  Then  only,  you  are  qualified  for  life, 
when  you  are  able  to  oppose  your  appetites,  and  bravely  dare  to 
call  your  opinions  to  account ;  when  you  have  established 
judgment  or  reason  as  the  ruler  in  your  mind,  and  by  a  patience 
of  thinking,  and  a  power  of  resisting,  before  you  choose,  can  bring 
your  fancy  to  the  test  of  truth.  By  this  means,  furnished  with 
the  knowledge  of  the  effects  and  consequences  of  actions,  you  will 
know  how  you  ought  to  behave  in  every  case.  You  will  steer 
wisely  through  the  various  rocks  and  shelves  of  life.  In  short, 
Arrianus,  the  deliberate  habit  is  the  proper  business  of  man  ; 
and  his  duty,  to  exert  upon  the  first  proper  call,  the  virtues 
natural  to  his  mind  ;  that  piety,  that  love,  that  justice,  that 
veracity,  that  gratitude,  and  that  benevolence,  which  are  the 
glory  of  human  kind.  Whatever  is  fated  in  that  order  of  incon- 
troulable  events,  by  which  the  divine  power  preserves  and  adorns 
the  whole,  meet  the  incidents  with  magnanimity,  and  co-operate 
with  chearfulness  in  whatever  the  supreme  mind  ordains.  Let  a 
fortitude  be  always  exerted  in  enduring  ;  a  justice  in  distribution  ; 
a  prudence  in  moral  offices  ;  and  a  temperance  in  your  natural 
appetites  and  pursuits.  This  is  the  most  perfect  humanity. 
This  do,  and  you  will  be  a  fit  actor  in  the  general  drama  ;  and  the 
only  end  of  your  existence  is  the  due  performance  of  the  part 
allotted  you." 

Such  was  Miss  NOEL'S  grotto,  and  with  her,  if  it  had  been  in 
my  power  to  choose,  I  had  rather  have  passed  in  it  the  day  in 
talking  of  the  various  fine  subjects  it  contained,  than  go  in  to 
dinner  ;  which  a  servant  informed  us  was  serving  up,  just  as  I 
had  done  reading  the  above  recited  philosophical  lesson.  Back 
then  we  returned  to  the  parlour,  and  there  found  the  old  gentle- 
man. We  sat  down  immediately  to  two  very  good  dishes,  and 
when  that  was  over,  Mr.  NOEL  and  I  drank  a  bottle  of  old  Alicant. 
Though  this  gentleman  was  upwards  of  eighty,  yet  years  had  not 
deprived  him  of  reason  and  spirits.  He  was  lively  and  sensible, 
and  still  a  most  agreeable  companion.  He  talked  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  as  if  he  had  lived  there  before  the  sera  of  Christianity. 
The  Court  of  Augustus  he  was  so  far  from  being  a  stranger  to, 
that  he  described  the  principal  persons  in  it ;  their  actions,  their 
pleasures,  and  their  caprices,  as  if  he  had  been  their  contemporary. 
We  talked  of  these  great  characters.  We  went  into  the  gallery 
of  Verres.  We  looked  over  the  antient  theatres.  Several  of 
the  most  beautiful  passages  in  the  Roman  poets  this  excellent 
old  man  repeated,  and  made  very  pleasant,  but  moral  remarks 
upon  them. 

"  The  cry,"  said  he,  "  still  is  as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Horace  : — 

O  cives,  cives,  quaerenda  pecunia  primum  est; 
Virtus  post  nummos. — 


26  THE  LIFE  OF 


Unde  habeas  nemo  quaerit,  sed  oportet  habere. 
Quorum  animis,  a  prima  lanugine,  non  insedit  illud  ? 

"And  what  Catullus  told  his  Lesbia,  is  it  not  approved  to  this 
day  by  the  largest  part  of  the  great  female  world  ? 

Vivamus,  mea  Lesbia,  atque  amemus, 

Rumoresque  Senum  severiorum, 

Omnes  unius  aestimemus  assis. 

Soles  occidere  et  redire  possunt, 

Nobis,  cum  semel  occidit  brevis  lux, 

Nox  est  perpetua  una  dormiendo. 

Haec  discunt  omnes  ante  Alpha  et  Beta  puellae. 

The  girls  all  learn  this  lesson  before  their  ABC;  and  as  to 
the  opinion  of  the  poet,  it  shews  how  sadly  the  Augustan  age, 
with  all  its  learning,  and  polite  advantages,  was  corrupted  :  and 
as  Virgil  makes  a  jest  of  his  own  fine  description  of  a  paradise 
of  the  Elysian  fields  ;  as  is  evident  from  his  dismissing  his  hero 
out  of  the  ivory  gate  ;  which  shews  he  was  of  the  school  of  Epi- 
curus ;  it  is  from  these  things  manifest,  that  we  can  never  be 
thankful  enough  for  the  principles  and  dictates  of  revealed 
religion  :  we  can  never  sufficiently  adore  the  goodness  of  the  most 
glorious  Eternal  for  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ ;  which  open  the 
unbounded  regions  of  eternal  day  to  the  virtuous  and  charitable, 
and  promises  them  a  rest  from  labour,  and  ever  blooming  joys  ; 
while  it  condemns  the  wicked  to  the  regions  of  horror  and  solid 
darkness  ;  that  dreadful  region,  from  whence  the  cries  of  misery 
for  ever  ascend,  but  can  never  reach  the  throne  of  mercy.  6 
heavenly  religion  !  designed  to  make  men  good,  and  for  ever 
happy  ;  that  preserves  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  guards 
and  increases  virtue,  and  brings  us  to  the  realms  of  perfect  reason 
and  excellent  glory. 

"  But,"  continued  this  fine  old  gentleman,  "  Tibullus  has 
ever  pleased  me  in  the  description  of  his  mistress  : — 

Illam  quicquid  agit,  quoquo  vestigia  flectit, 
Componit  furtim  subsequiturque  decor  ; 
Seu  solvit  crines,  fusis  decet  esse  capillis  ; 
Seu  compsit  comptis  est  veneranda  comis. 
Urit  seu  Tyria  voluit  procedere  puella  ; 
Urit  seu  nivea  Candida  veste  venit. 
Tails  in  a?terno  felix  Vertumnus  Olympo 
Mille  habet  ornatus,  mille  decenter  habet. 

"  These  elegant  lines  contain  an  inimitably  beautiful  descrip- 
tion of  outward  grace,  and  its  charming  effects  upon  all  who  see 
it.  Such  a  grace,  without  thinking  of  it,  every  one  should  strive 
to  have,  whatever  they  are  doing.  They  should  make  it  habitual 
to  them.  Quintilian  seems  to  have  had  these  fine  lines  in  view, 
in  his  description  of  outward  behaviour  :  '  Neque  enim  gestum 
componi  ad  similitudinem  saltationis  volo,  sed  subesse  aliquid, 


JOHN  BUNCLEfESQ.  27 

in  hac  exercitatione  puerili,  unde  nos  non  id  agentes,  furtim 
decor  ille  discentibus  traditus  subsequatur.'  Cap.  10.  I  am 
not  for  having  the  mein  of  a  gentleman  the  same  with  that  of  a 
dancing-master  ;  but  that  a  boy  while  young  should  enter  upon 
this  exercise,  that  it  may  communicate  a  secret  gracefulness 
to  his  manner  ever  after." 

In  this  manner  did  the  old  gentleman  and  I  pass  the  time, 
till  the  clock  struck  five,  when  Miss  NOEL  came  into  the  parlour 
again,  and  her  father  said  he  must  retire,  to  take  his  evening 
nap,  and  would  see  me  at  supper  ;  for  with  him  I  must  stay  that 
night.  "  HARRIET,  make  tea  for  the  gentleman.  I  am  your 
servant,  sir,"  and  he  withdrew.  To  HARRIET,  then,  my  life,  and 
my  bliss,  I  turned  ;  and,  over  a  pot  of  tea,  was  as  happy,  I  am 
sure,  as  ever  with  his  Statira  sat  the  Conqueror  of  the  World. 
I  began  to  relate  once  more  the  story  of  a  passion,  that  was  to 
form  one  day,  I  hoped,  my  sole  felicity  in  this  world  ;  and  with 
vows  and  protestations  affirmed  that  I  loved  from  my  soul. 
"  Charming  angel,"  I  said,  "  the  beauties  of  your  mind  have 
inspired  me  with  a  passion  that  must  increase  every  time  I  behold 
the  harmony  of  your  face  ;  and  by  the  powers  divine,  I  swear  to 
love  you  as  long  as  Heaven  shall  permit  me  to  breathe  the  vital 
air.  Bid  me  then  either  live  or  die,  and  while  I  do  live,  be  assured 
that  my  life  will  be  devoted  to  you  only."  But  in  vain  was  all 
this  warmth.  Miss  NOEL  sat  as  unmoved  as  Erycina  on  a  monu- 
ment, and  only  answered,  with  a  smile,  "  Since  your  days,  sir, 
are  in  my  disposal,  I  desire  you  will  change  to  some  other  subject, 
and  some  article  that  is  rational  and  useful ;  otherwise  I  must 
leave  the  room." 

"  To  leave  me,"  I  replied,  "  would  be  insupportable  ;  and, 
therefore,  at  once  I  have  done.  If  you  please  then,  madam, 
we  will  consider  the  miracle  at  Babel,  and  enquire  into  the 
language  of  the  world  at  that  time.  Allowing,  as  you  have  proved 
in  our  late  conversation,  that  the  language  after  the  flood  was 
quite  another  thing  from  that  used  in  Paradise,  and  of  conse- 
quence, that  Moses  did  not  write  in  that  tongue  which  Adam  and 
Eve  conversed  in  ;  nor  is  Hebrew  of  that  primaevity  which  some 
great  men  affirm  ;  yet,  if  there  was  a  confusion,  of  tongues  at 
Babel,  and  many  languages  were  spoken  in  the  earth  in  the  days 
of  Abraham,  how  did  he  and  his  sons  converse  so  easily  with  the 
various  nations  they  passed  through,  and  had  occasional  con- 
nexions with  ?  For  my  part,  I  think  with  Hutchinson,  that 
the  divine  interposition  at  Babel  was  for  quite  another  end,  to 
wit,  to  confound  their  confession,  and  cast  out  of  their  minds 
the  name  or  object  of  it,  that  a  man  might  not  listen  to  the 
lip  or  confession  of  his  neighbour.  They  were  made  to  lose 
their  own  lip,  and  to  differ  about  the  words  of  their  atheistical 
confession." 


28  THE  LIFE  OF 


"As  to  a  confusion  of  confessions,"  replied  Miss  NOEL,  "it 
appears  to  me  to  be  a  notion  without  any  foundation  to  rest  on. 
The  argument  of  Hutchinson  that  the  word  '  shepah,'  the  name 
for  a  lip,  when  used  for  the  voice  or  speech,  is  never  once  in  the 
Bible  used  in  any  other  sense  than  for  confession,  is  not  good  ; 
because,  though  '  shephah  '  is  often  generally  used  for  religious 
discourse  or  confession,  yet  the  phrases,  '  other  lips  '  and  '  other 
tongues,'  are  also  used  for  '  other  languages,  utterances,  pro- 
nunciations, dialects'  St.  Paul,  i  Corinthians,  ch.  14,  v.  21,  22  ; 
applies  shephah  to  language  or  dialect,  in  his  quotation  from  the 
prophet  Isaiah,  ch.  28,  v.  1 1,  12.  He  says,  in  the  law  it  is  written, 
'  With  men  of  *  other  tongues  and  other  lips  will  I  speak  unto 
this  people,  and  yet  for  all  that  they  will  not  hear  me.'  And 
the  words  of  the  prophet  are,  speaking  of  Christ  promised  ;  '  with 
stammering  lips,  and  another  tongue  will  he  speak  to  this  people.' 
It  is  evident  from  this,  that  the  Hebrew  word  shephah  here 
signifies  tongues  or  languages,  and  not  confessions  or  discourse. 
So  the  apostle  applies  it,  and  explains  the  prophet :  and  by 
'  stammering  lips,'  Isaiah  means  the  '  uncouth  pronunciations 
of  barbarous  dialects,'  or  languages  of  the  nations,  which  must 
produce  in  strangers  to  them  ridiculous  lips  or  mouths  ;  and  in 
this  he  refers  undoubtedly  to  the  stammering  and  strange  sounds 
at  the  Babel  confusion,  when  God,  by  a  miracle  and  visible 
exhibition,  distorted  their  organs  of  speech,  and  gave  them  a 
trembling,  hesitation  and  precipitancy,  as  to  vocal  and  other 
powers.  In  short,  the  miraculous  gift  of  tongues  would  in  some 
measure  affect  the  saints,  in  respect  of  pronunciation,  as  the 
Miracle  of  Babel  did  the  people  of  that  place,  f  Nor  is  this  the 

*  The  words  men  of  are  not  in  the  Greek. 

t  To  this  stammering  or  uncouth  pronunciation  of  barbarous  dialects  the  prophet  Ezektel 
refers,  chap.  36,  v.  3,  "  Ye  are  made  to  come  upon  the  lip  of  the  tongues  "  :  that  is,  ye  are 
become  a  bye- word  even  in  the  heathen  gabble,  among  the  babbling  nations  where  ye  are  in 
captivity.  Holloway,  the  author  of  Letter  and  Spirit,  says,  the  word  barbarous,  used  in  so 
many  languages,  (with  only  their  respective  different  determinations)  for  persons  of  strange 
or  foreign  tongues,  is  a  monument  of  the  great  confusion  at  Babel ;  this  word  being  a  corruption 
of  the  reduplicate  Chaldee  word  Balbel,  by  changing  the  /  in  each  place  into  r.  Some  say, 
the  word  in  the  other  languages  is  derived  from  the  Arabic  Barbar,  to  "  murmur  like  some 
beast."  Scaliger  defines  it,  Pronunciatio  vitipsa  et  insuavis,  literasque  male  exprimens, 
blaesorum  balborumque  more :  which  was  hitting  upon  the  truth  as  to  part  of  the  original 
manner  of  the  confusion.  Indeed  Blcesus  and  Balbus,  in  Latin,  are  both  derived  in  like  manner 
from  Bal  and  Balbel.  The  Welsh  have  preserved  a  noble  word  for  this  barbarism  of  confused 
language  in  their  compounded  term  Baldwraidd :  which  is  a  plain  compound  of  the  Hebrew 
Bal,  and  Dabar,  without  any  other  deflection  from  the  original  Hebrew,  than  that  of  changing 
the  b  in  the  latter  member  of  the  word  Dabar  into  the  Welsh  w,  a  letter  of  the  same  organ. 
Moreover,  from  their  said  Baldwraidd,  and  Das,  we  again  derive  our  Balderdash :  which 
therefore  signifies  strictly,  a  heap  of  confused  or  barbarous  words,  like  those  of  the  gabble 
of  dialects,  orginally  gendered  at  Babel.  See  Letter  and  Spirit,  ch.  1 1 .  It  is  very  remarkable, 
that  this  learned  gentleman  says  he  had  been  long  of  Hutchinson's  mind,  as  to  a  confusion 
of  confessions,  and  not  of  tongues ;  but  on  weighing  the  matter,  is  now  of  another  opinion. 
Ibid.  p.  115.  Therefore,  Hutchinson  not  infallible,  but  out  for  once,  and  as  Dr.  Sharp  well 
observes,  this  may  be  an  earnest  of  deserting  Hutchinson  in  other  points  of  his  new  hypothesis. 
See  Dr.  Sharp's  Two  Discourses  on  the  Hebrew  Tongue  and  Character  against  Holloway.  His 
Two  Discourses  on  Elohim,  and  Defence.  And  his  Three  Discourses  on  Cherubim.  The 
Hutchinsonians  lay  the  stress  of  their  hypothesis  on  the  Biblical  Hebrew,  being  the  language 
of  Adam  in  Paradise ;  and  if  this  be  taken  from  them,  they  are  left  in  a  poor  way  indeed. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  29 

only  place  in  Scripture  where  shephah,  lip,  signifies  language, 
pronunciations,  and  dialects  ;  and  where  there  is  reference  to 
the  confusion  of  tongues  at  Babel,  Isaiah,  speaking  of  the  privileges 
of  the  godly,  says,  '  Thou  shalt  not  see  a  fierce  people,  of  a  deeper 
speech  than  thou  canst  perceive,  (of  a  deeper  lip  than  thou  canst 
hear,  Heb.}  of  a  stammering  or  ridiculous  tongue,  that  thou  canst 
not  understand.  This  is  enough  in  answer  to  Hutchinson  and 
his  fautors,  in  respect  of  what  they  say  on  the  confusion  at  Babel. 
This  proves  that  the  word  shephah,  lip  signifies  language,  utterance, 
dialect,  as  well  as  confession  or  discourse  ;  and  therefore,  Moses, 
in  his  account  of  the  Miracle  at  Babel,  might  have  mean'd  a 
confusion  of  languages.  That  he  did  mean  this,  is  plain,  not  only 
from  a  tradition  gone  out  into  all  the  earth,  which  is  a  matter  of 
greater  regard  than  Hutchinson' s  fancy  ;  but  because  the  sacred 
oracles  allude  to  this  event.  Beside  St.  Paul  aforementioned, 
the  royal  prophet  in  Psalm  Iv.  ver.  9,  refers  to  the  means  of  the 
division  of  tongues,  and  denounces  a  curse  in  terms  taken  from 
that  inflicted  at  Babel.  '  Swallow  up,  O  Lord,  and  divide  their 
tongues.'  This  seems  to  describe  the  manner  of  that  confusion  ; 
that  the  substance  of  the  one  language  was  sunk  or  swallowed 
up  in  the  vast  chaos  of  universal  babble  ;  and  that  out  of  that 
jargon  it  was  again,  by  another  act,  divided  or  broken  into  many 
particular  dissonant  dialects,  or  tongues." 

"  All  this,"  I  said,  "  is  very  just,  and  gives  me  delight  and 
satisfaction.  I  am  now  convinced,  not  only  that  Hebrew  was 
not  the  language  of  Paradise,  or  that  Adam  did  not  speak  the 
tongue  the  old  world  used  immediately  before  the  confusion  at 
Babel ;  but  likewise,  that  the  division  there,  was  a  division  and 
confusion  of  the  one  language  then  spoken  ;  and  not  a  confusion 
of  confessions,  as  Hutchinson  affirms.  Inform  me,  however,  if 
you  please,  what  you  mean  by  that  tradition  you  mentioned  which 
declared  the  Miracle  of  Babel  to  be  a  confusion  of  languages." 

"  The  Jews'  tradition,"  replied  Miss  NOEL,  "  is  preserved  in 
their  Targum,  and  tells  us,  that  the  whole  earth,  after  the  flood, 
was  of  one  speech,  or  sort  of  words,  and  when  at  their  first  remove 
from  Ararat,  they  came  to  Shinar,  they  consulted  to  build  them 
a  city,  and  a  tower  for  a  house  of  adoration,  whose  head  might 
reach  to,  or  be  towards,  the  heavens,  and  to  place  an  image 
of  the  host  of  heaven  for  an  object  of  worship  on  the  top  of  it ; 
and  to  put  a  sword  in  his  hand,  that  he  might  make  war  for  them 
against  the  divine  armies,  to  prevent  their  dispersion  over  the 
whole  earth.  Whereupon  the  word  of  the  Lord  was  revealed 
from  Heaven,  to  execute  vengeance  upon  them,  and  the  Lord 
corrupted  their  tongue,  broke  their  speech  into  seventy  languages, 
and  scattered  them  over  the  face  of  the  whole  earth.  No  one 
knew  what  his  fellow  said  ;  and  they  slew  one  another,  and  ceased 
from  building  the  city.  Therefore  he  called  the  name  of  it 


30  THE  LIFE  OF 


Babel ;  because  there  the  Lord  mingled  together  the  tongues  of 
all  the  inhabitants  of  the  other.  This  you  read  in  the  Tar  gum 
that  was  written  before  the  days  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  the  Jews 
affirm  ;  or,  if  not  so  early,  yet  it  is  a  very  antient  book,  and  the 
doctor  who  composed  it  must  certainly  know  the  meaning  of  the 
word  shephah  better  than  Hutchinson.  It  appears,  upon  the 
whole,  that  the  argument  of  this  famous  modern  is  without 
foundation." 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  I  answered,  "  but  then  I  am  not  able  to  conceive 
how  Abraham  and  his  sons  conversed  with  so  many  nations,  or 
how  the  Hebrew  that  Moses  wrote  in  was  preserved.  Illuminate 
me  in  these  things,  illustrious  HARRIET,  and  from  your  fine  under- 
standing, let  me  have  the  honour  and  happiness  of  receiving 
true  Hebrew  lessons.  Proceed,  I  beseech  you,  and  stop  not 
till  you  have  expounded  to  my  understanding  the  true  nature 
of  Cherubim  ?  What  do  you  think  of  Hutchinson's  Rub  and 
Rubbin,  and  of  his  notions  of  Ezekiel's  cherubic  form." 

"  To  talk  of  Cherubim  and  Elohim,"  resumed  Miss  NOEL, 
"  and  say  all  that  ought  to  be  said,  to  speak  to  any  purpose  ; 
of  the  three  heads  and  four  visages,  the  bull,  the  man,  the  lion, 
and  the  eagle,  mentioned  in  the  prophet,  requires  more  know- 
ledge in  Hebrew  learning  than  I-  pretend  to  be  mistress  of,  and 
must  take  up  more  time  than  there  is  now  to  spare.  I  may 
hereafter,  however,  if  you  should  chance  to  come  again  to  our 
house,  let  you  know  my  fancies  upon  these  grand  subjects,  and 
why  I  cannot  accord  with  Hutchinson  and  my  father,  in  their 
notion  of  the  Cherubim's  signifying  the  unity  of  the  essence, 
the  distinction  of  the  persons,  and  man's  being  taken  into  the 
essence  by  his  personal  union  with  the  second  person,  whose 
constant  emblem  was  the  lion.  This,  I  confess,  appears  to  my 
plain  understanding  very  miserable  stuff.  I  can  see  no  text 
either  in  the  Old  Testament,  or  in  the  New,  for  a  plurality  of  beings, 
co-ordinate  and  independent.  The  sacred  pages  declare  there  is 
one  original  perfect  mind.  '  The  Lord  shall  be  king  over  all  the 
earth.  In  that  day  there  shall  be  ONE  LORD,  and  his  name 
ONE,'  says  the  prophet  Zachariah,  speaking  of  the  prodigious 
revolution  in  the  Gentile  world,  whence  in  process  of  time,  by 
the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  worship  of  one  true  God  shall 
prevail  all  over  the  earth,  as  universally  as  Polytheism  had  done 
before.  This  I  dare  not  observe  to  my  father,  as  he  is  an  admirer 
of  Hutchinson,  and  will  not  bear  any  contradiction  ;  but  my 
private  judgment  is,  that  Hutchinson  on  the  Cherubim  and 
Elohim  or  Eloim,  is  a  mad  commentator,  as  I  may  show  you, 
if  we  ever  happen  to  meet  again. 

"  At  present,  all  I  can  do  more  on  the  Hebrew  subject,  is  to 
observe  that,  in  respect  of  the  preservation  of  the  Hebrew  tongue, 
I  imagine  the  one  prevailing  language  before  the  Miracle  of  Babel, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  31 

which  one  language  was  afterwards  called  Hebrew,  though 
divided  and  swallowed  as  it  were  at  the  tower,  was  kept  without 
change  in  the  line  of  Shem,  and  continued  their  tongue.  This 
cannot  be  disputed,  I  believe.  I  likewise  imagine,  it  must  be 
allowed  that  this  Hebrew  continued  the  vernacular  tongue  of 
the  old  Canaanites.  It  is  otherwise  unaccountable  how  the 
Hebrew  was  found  to  be  the  language  of  the  Canaanites,  when  the 
family  of  Abraham  came  among  them  again,  after  an  absence 
of  more  than  two  hundred  years.  If  they  had  had  another 
tongue  at  the  confusion,  was  it  possible  for  Abraham,  during 
his  temporary  sojournments  among  them,  and  in  the  necessities 
of  his  peregrination,  to  persuade  so  many  tribes  to  quit  their 
dialect,  and  learn  his  language  ;  or,  if  his  influence  had  been  so 
amazing,  can  it  be  supposed,  they  would  not  return  again  to  their 
old  language,  after  he  had  left  them,  and  his  family  was  away 
from  them  more  than  two  hundred  years  ?  No,  sir  ;  we  cannot 
justly  suppose  such  a  thing.  The  language  of  the  old  Canaanites 
could  not  be  a  different  one  from  the  Hebrew.  If  you  will  look 
into  Bochart,*  you  will  find  this  was  his  opinion.  That  great 
man  says,  the  ante'-Babel  language  escaped  the  confusion  two 
ways,  viz.,  by  the  Canaanites,  through  God's  providence  preserving 
it  in  their  colonies  for  the  future  use  of  the  Hebrews,  who  were  to 
possess  the  land  ;  and  by  the  patriarch  Heber,  as  a  sacred 
depositum  for  the  use  of  his  posterity,  and  of  Abraham  in  par- 
ticular. 

"  This  being  the  case :  the  Phoenician  or  Canaanitish  tongue, 
being  the  same  language  that  the  line  of  Heber  spoke,  with  this 
only  difference,  that  by  the  latter  it  was  retained  in  greater 
purity,  being  in  the  mouths  of  a  few,  and  transmitted  by  instruc- 
tion ;  it  follows,  that  Abraham  and  his  sons  could  talk  with  all 
these  tribes  and  communities  ;  and  as  to  the  other  nations  he 
had  communication  with,  he  might  easily  converse  with  them, 
as  he  was  a  Syrian  by  birth,  and  to  be  sure  could  talk  the  Ara- 
mitish  dialect  as  well  as  Laban  his  brother.  The  Aramitish 
was  the  customary  language  of  the  line  of  Shem.  It  was  their 
vulgar  tongue.  The  language  of  the  old  world,  that  was  spoken 
immediately  before  the  confusion,  was  called  Hebrew  from 
Heber,  which  they  reserved  for  sacred  uses." 

t  The  great  Samuel  Bochart,  born  at  Rouen,  in  1599,  was  the  minister  of  the  reformed 
church  in  the  town  of  Caen,  in  Normandy.  His  principal  works  are  his  Phaleg  and  Canaan  ; 
works  that  show  an  amazing  erudition,  and  ought  to  be  well  read  by  every  gentleman  ;  you 
should  likewise  have  his  Hierozoicon,  or  History  of  Animals  mentioned  in  the  Sacred  Books. 
It  is  a  good  supplement  to  his  Scripture  Geography.  His  sermons  and  dissertations  are  also 
very  valuable.  Bochart  died  suddenly  in  the  Academy  at  Caen,  on  Monday,  i6th  May, 
1667,  in  the  sixty-eighth  year  of  his  age.  Brieux  wrote  the  following  fine  epitaph  on  him  : — 
Scilicet  haec  cuique  est  data  sors  a?quissima,  talis 

Ut  sit  mors,  qualis  vita  peracta  fuit. 
Musarum  in  gremio  teneris  qui  vixit  ab  annis. 
Musarum  in  gremio  debuit  ille  mori. 


32  THE  LIFE  OF 

Here  Miss  NOEL  ended,  and  my  amazement  was  so  great,  and 
my  passion  had  risen  so  high  for  such  uncommon  female  intelli- 
gence, that  I  could  not  help  snatching  this  beauty  to  my  arms, 
and  without  thinking  of  what  I  did,  impressed  on  her  balmy  lips 
half  a  dozen  kisses.  This  was  wrong,  and  gave  very  great  offence, 
but  she  was  too  good  to  be  implacable,  and  on  my  begging  her 
pardon,  and  protesting  it  was  not  a  wilful  rudeness,  but  the 
magic  of  her  glorious  eyes,  and  the  bright  powers  of  her  mind, 
that  had  transported  me  beside  myself,  she  was  reconciled,  and 
asked  me,  if  I  would  play  a  game  at  cards  ?  "  With  delight," 
I  replied,  and  immediately  a  pack  was  brought  in.  We  sat  down 
to  cribbage,  and  had  played  a  few  games,  when  by  accident  Miss 
NOEL  saw  the  head  of  my  german  flute,  which  I  always  brought 
out  with  me  in  my  walks,  and  carried  in  a  long  pocket  within-side 
my  coat.  "  You  play,  sir,  I  suppose,  on  that  instrument,"  this 
lady  said,  "  and  as  of  all  sorts  of  music  this  pleases  me  most,  I 
request  you  will  oblige  me  with  anything  you  please."  "  In  a 
moment,  I  answered,  and  taking  from  my  pocket  book  the 
following  lines,  I  reached  them  to  her,  and  told  her  I  had  the  day 
before  set  them  to  one  of  Lully's  airs,  and  instantly  began  to 
breathe  the  softest  harmony  I  could  make — 


ALMIGHTY  love's  resistless  rage, 
No  force  can  quell,  no  art  assuage  : 
While  wit  and  beauty  both  conspire, 
To  kindle  in  my  breast  the  fire  : 
The  matchless  shape,  the  charming  grace, 
The  easy  air,  and  blooming  face, 
Each  charm  that  does  in  Flavia  shine, 
To  keep  my  captive  heart  combine. 

I  feel,  I  feel  the  raging  fire  ! 
And  my  soul  burns  with  fierce  desire  ! 
Thy  freedom,  Reason,  I  disown, 
And  beauty's  pleasing  chains  put  on  ; 
No  art  can  set  the  captive  free, 
Who  scorns  his  offer'd  liberty  ; 
Nor  is  confinement  any  pain, 
To  him  who  hugs  his  pleasing  chain. 

Bright  Venus  !  Offspring  of  the  sea  ! 
Thy  sovereign  dictates  I  obey  ; 
Submissive  own  thy  mighty  reign, 
And  feel  thy  power  in  every  vein  : 
I  feel  thy  influence  all-confest, 
I  feel  thee  triumph  in  my  breast ! 
'Tis  there  is  fix'd  thy  sacred  court, 
'Tis  there  thy  Cupids  gaily  sport. 

Come,  my  Boy,  the  altar  place, 
Add  the  blooming  garland's  grace  ; 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  33 

Gently  pour  the  sacred  wine, 

Hear  me,  Venus  !  Power  divine  ! 

Grant  the  only  boon  I  crave, 

Hear  me,  Venus  !  Hear  thy  slave  ! 

Bless  my  fond  soul  with  beauty's  charms, 

And  give  me  Flavia  to  my  arms.* 

Just  as  I  was  finishing  this  piece  of  music,  old  Mr.  Noel  came 
into  the  parlour,  in  his  wonted  good  humour,  and  seemed  very 
greatly  pleased  with  me  and  my  instrument.  He  told  me,  I 
was  the  young  man  he  wanted  to  be  acquainted  with,  and  that 
if  it  was  no  detriment  to  me,  I  should  not  leave  him  this  month 
to  come.  "  Come  sir,"  continued  this  fine  old  gentleman,  "  let 
me  hear  another  piece  of  your  music — vocal  or  instrumental  as 
you  will,  for  I  suppose  you  sing  as  well  as  you  play."  "  Both 
you  shall  have,  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  to  the  best  of  my  abilities,  and 
by  way  of  change,  I  will  give  you  first  a  song,  called 

THE   SOLITUDE. 

YE  lofty  mountains,  whose  eternal  snows 
Like  Atlas  seem  to  prop  the  distant  skies  ; 

While  shelter'd  by  your  high  and  ample  brows 
All  nature's  beauties  feast  my  ravish'd  eyes  : 

And  far  beneath  me  o'er  the  distant  plain 

The  thunders  break,  and  rattling  tempests  reign. 

*  As  this  song  is  a  short  imitation  of  the  nineteenth  Ode  of  the  first  book  of  Horace,  it  is 
worth  your  while,  Reader,  to  see  how  the  Rev.  P.  Francis  has  done  the  whole.  I  will  here 
set  down  a  few  lines  : 

"  Urit  me  Glycerae  nitor 

Splendentis  pario  marmore  purius : 
Urit  grata  protervitas, 

Et  vultus  nimium  lubricus  aspici." 

Which  lines  are  imitated  in  the  first  verse  of  the  above  song,  and  a  part  of  the  second  ;  and 
the  ingenious  Mr.  Francis  renders  them  in  the  following  manner — 
"  Again  for  Glycera  I  burn, 
And  all  my  long  forgotten  flames  return. 
As  Parian  marble  pure  and  bright, 

The  shining  maid  my  bosom  warms ; 
Her  face  too  dazzling  for  the  sight, 

Her  sweet  coqueting — how  it  charms !  " 
The  following : 

"  In  me  tota  ruens  Venus 

Cyprum  deseruit — " 

of  which  the  third  verse  of  the  song  is  an  imitation,  Mr.  Francis  translates  thus : 
"  Whole  Venus  rushing  through  my  veins, 
No  longer  in  her  favourite  Cyprus  reigns." 

And  the  lines: 

"  Hie  vivum  mini  cespitem,  hie 

Verbenas,  pueri,  ponite  thuraque 
Bimi  cum  patera  meri : 

Mactata  veniet  laenior  hostia :  " 

Which  are  imitated  in  the  fourth  verse  of  the  song,  Mr.  Francis  translates  as  follows, 
"  Here  let  the  living  altar  rise, 

Adorn'd  with  every  herb  and  flower ; 
Here  flame  the  incense  to  the  skies, 

And  purest  wines  libation  pour ; 
Due  honours  to  the  Goddess  paid, 
Soft  sinks  to  willing  love  the  yielding  maid." 


34  THE    LIFE    OF 


Here,  when  Aurora  with  her  cheerful  beam 
And  rosy  blushes  marks  approaching  day  ; 

Oft  do  I  walk  along  the  purling  strea  n, 

And  see  the  bleating  flocks  around  me  stray  : 

The  woods,  the  rocks,  each  charm  that  strikes  my  sight, 

Fills  my  whole  breast  with  innocent  delight. 

Here  gaily  dancing  on  the  flow'ry  ground 
The  cheerful  shepherds  join  their  flute  and  voice  ; 

While  thro'  the  groves  the  woodland  songs  resound, 
And  fill  th'   untroubled  mind  with  peaceful  joys. 

Music  and  love  inspire  the  vocal  plain, 

Alone  the  turtle  tunes  her  plaintive  strain. 

Here  the  green  turf  invites  my  wearied  head 

On  nature's  lap  to  undisturb'd  repose ; 
Here  gently  laid  to  rest,  each  care  is  fled  ; 

Peace  and  content  my  happy  eye-lids  close. 
Ye  golden  flattering  dreams  of  state  adieu  ! 
As  bright  my  slumbers  are,  more  soft  than  you. 

Here  free  from  all  the  tempests  of  the  great, 

Craft  and  ambition  can  deceive  no  more  ! 
Beneath  these  shades  I  find  a  blest  retreat, 

From  Envy's  rage  secure,  and  Fortune's  power  : 
Here  call  the    actions  of  past  ages  o'er, 
Or  truth's  immortal  source  alone  explore. 

Here  far  from  all  the  busy  world's  alarms, 
I  prove  in  peace  the  Muse's  sacred  leisure  : 

No  cares  within,  no  distant  sound  of  arms, 
Break  my  repose,  or  interrupt  my  pleasure. 

Fortune  and  Fame  !     Deceitful  forms  !     Adieu  ! 

The  world's  a  trifle  far  beneath  my  view. 

This  song  delighted  the  old  gentleman  exceedingly.  He  told 
me,  he  was  charmed  with  it,  not  only  for  the  fine  music  I  made  of 
it,  but  the  morality  of  it,  and  liked  me  so  much,  that  I  was  most 
heartily  welcome  to  make  his  solitary  retreat  my  home,  as  often 
and  as  long  as  I  pleased.  And  indeed  I  did  so,  and  continued  to 
behave  in  such  a  manner,  that  in  two  months  time,  I  gained  so 
entirely  his  affections,  and  so  totally  the  heart  of  his  admirable 
daughter,  that  I  might  have  her  in  wedlock  when  I  pleased,  after 
the  expiration  of  that  current  year,  which  was  the  young  lady's 
request,  and  be  secured  of  his  estate  at  his  death  ;  beside  a  large 
fortune  to  be  immediately  paid  down  ;  and  this,  though  my  father 
should  refuse  to  settle  anything  on  me,  or  Miss  NOEL,  my  wife. 
This  was  generous  and  charming  as  my  heart  could  desire.  I 
thought  myself  the  happiest  of  men.  Every  week  I  went  to 
Eden  Park,  one  time  or  other,  to  see  my  dear  Miss  NOEL,  and 
pay  my  respects  to  her  worthy  father.  We  were  while  I  stayed 
a  most  happly  family,  and  enjoyed  such  satisfactions  as  few  I 
believe  have  experienced  in  this  tempestuous  hemisphere.  Mr. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  35 

NOEL  was  passionately  fond  of  his  daughter,  and  he  could  not 
regard  me  more  if  I  had  been  his  own  son,  I  loved  my  Harriet 
with  a  fondness  beyond  description,  and  that  glorious  girl  had 
all  the  esteem  I  could  wish  she  had  for  me.  Our  mutual  felicity 
could  rise  no  higher  till  we  gave  our  hands,  as  we  had  already 
plighted  our  hearts. 

This  world  is  a  series  of  visionary  scenes,  and  contains  so  little 
solid,  lasting  felicity,  as  I  have  found  it,  that  I  cannot  call  life 
more  than  a  deception  ;  and,  as  Swift  says  it,  "  He  is  the  happiest 
man,  who  is  best  deceived."  When  I  thought  myself  within  a 
fortnight  of  being  married  to  Miss  NOEL,  and  thereby  made  as 
completely  happy  in  every  respect  as  it  was  possible  for  a  mortal 
man  to  be,  the  small  pox  stepped  in,  and  in  seven  days  time, 
reduced  the  finest  human  frame  in  the  universe  to  the  most 
hideous  and  offensive  block.  The  most  amiable  of  human 
creatures  mortified  all  over,  and  became  a  spectacle  the  most 
hideous  and  appalling.  This  broke  her  father's  heart  in  a  month's 
time,  and  the  paradise  I  had  in  view,  sunk  into  everlasting  night. 

My  heart,  upon  this  sad  accident,  bled  and  mourned  to  an 
extreme  degree.  All  the  tender  passions  were  up  in  my  soul, 
and  with  great  difficulty  could  I  keep  my  ruffled  spirits  in  toler- 
able decorum.  I  lost  what  I  valued  more  than  my  life  ;  more 
than  repeated  millions  of  worlds,  if  it  had  been  possible  to  get 
them  in  exchange.  This  engaged,  beloved  partner,  was  an  honour 
to  her  sex,  and  an  ornament  to  human  kind.  She  was  one  of 
the  wisest  and  most  agreeable  of  women  ;  and  her  life  quite 
glorious  for  piety  to  God,  compassion  to  the  necessitous  and 
miserable,  benevolence  and  good  will  to  all,  with  every  other 
grace  and  virtue.  These  shone  with  a  bright  lustre  in  her  whole 
deportment,  and  rendered  her  beloved,  and  the  delight  of  all 
that  knew  her.  Sense  and  genius  were  in  her  united,  and  by 
study,  reflection,  and  application,  she  improved  the  talents,  in 
the  happiest  manner.  She  had  acquired  a  superiority  in  thinking, 
speaking,  writing,  and  acting  ;  and  in  manners,  her  behaviour, 
her  language,  her  design  and  her  understanding  was  inexpressibly 
charming.  Miss  NOEL  died  in  the  24th  year  of  her  age,  the  29th 
of  December,  in  the  year  1724. 

This  dismal  occurrence  preyed  powerfully  on  my  spirits  for 
some  time,  and  for  near  two  months,  I  scarcely  spoke  a  word  to 
any  one.  I  was  silent,  but  not  sullen.  As  my  tears  and  lamenta- 
tions could  not  save  her,  so  I  knew  they  could  not  fetch  her  back. 
Death  and  the  grave  have  neither  eyes  nor  ears.  The  thing  to 
be  done  upon  so  melancholy  an  occasion,  is  to  adore  the  Lord  of 
infinite  wisdom,  as  he  has  a  right  to  strike  our  comforts  dead  ; 
and  so  improve  the  awful  event,  by  labouring  to  render  our  whole 
temper  and  deportment  Christian  and  divine,  that  we  may  be 
able  to  live,  while  we  do  live,  superior  to  the  strokes  of  fortune 


36  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  the  calamities  of  human  life  ;  and  when  God  bids  us  die,  in 
whatever  manner,  and  at  whatever  time  it  may  be,  have  nothing 
to  do  but  to  die,  and  so  to  enter  into  our  master's  joy.  This  is 
wisdom.  This  good  we  may  extract  from  such  doleful  things. 
This  was  the  effect  my  dear  Miss  NOEL'S  death  had  on  me,  and 
when  I  saw  myself  deprived  of  so  invaluable  a  thing  in  this  world, 
I  determined  to  double  my  diligence  in  so  acting  my  part  in  it, 
that  whenever  I  was  to  pass  through  the  last  extremity  of  nature, 
I  might  be  dismissed  with  a  blessing  to  another  world,  and  by 
virtue  of  the  sublime  excellencies  of  our  holy  religion,  proceed  to 
the  abodes  of  immortality  and  immutable  felicity. 

I  wish  I  could  persuade  you,  reader,  to  resolve  in  the  same 
manner.  If  you  are  young,  and  have  not  yet  experienced  life, 
believe  me,  all  is  vanity,  disappointment,  weariness,  and  dis- 
satisfaction, and  in  the  midst  of  troubles  and  uncertainties,  we 
are  hastening  to  an  unknown  world,  from  whence  we  shall  never 
again  return.  Whether  our  dissolution  be  near,  we  know  not ; 
but  this  is  certain,  that  Death,  that  universal  conqueror,  is 
making  after  us  apace,  to  seize  us  as  his  captives  ;  and  therefore, 
though  a  man  live  many  years,  and  rejoice  in  them  all,  which  is 
the  case  of  very  few,  yet  let  him  remember  the  days  of  darkness. 

And  when  death  does  come,  our  lot  may  be  the  most  racking 
pains  and  distempers,  to  fasten  us  down  to  our  sick-beds,  till 
we  resign  our  spirits  to  some  strange  region,  our  breath  to  the 
common  air,  and  our  bodies  to  the  dust  from  whence  they  were 
taken.  Dismal  situation  !  If  in  the  days  of  our  health,  we  did 
not  make  our  happiness  and  moral  worth  corresponded  not  labour, 
in  the  time  of  our  strength,  to  escape  from  wrong  opinion  and 
bad  habit,  and  to  render  our  minds  sincere  and  incorrupt ;  if 
we  did  not  worship  and  love  the  supreme  mind,  and  adore  his 
divine  administration,  and  all  the  secrets  of  his  providence.  If 
this  was  not  our  case,  before  corruption  begins  to  lay  hold  of  us, 
deplorable  must  we  be,  when  torments  come  upon  us,  and  we 
have  only  hopeless  wishes  that  we  had  been  wiser,  as  we  descend 
in  agonies  to  our  solitary  retreat  :  to  proceed  from  thence  to 
judgment.  Language  cannot  paint  the  horrors  of  such  a  condi- 
tion. The  anguish  of  mind,  and  the  torture  of  body,  are  a  scene 
of  misery  beyond  description. 

Or,  if  without  torment,  we  lie  down  in  silence,  and  sink  into 
the  land  of  forge tfulness,  yet,  since  the  Lord  Jesus  is  to  raise  us 
from  the  regions  of  darkness,  and  bring  us  to  the  sessions  of 
righteousness,  where  all  our  actions  are  to  be  strictly  tried  and 
examined,  and  every  one  shall  be  judged  according  to  the  deeds 
done  in  the  body,  whether  they  have  been  good  or  evil ;  what 
can  screen  us  from  the  wrath  of  that  mighty  power,  which  is 
to  break  off  the  strong  fetters  of  death,  and  to  throw  open  the 
iron  gates  of  the  grave,  if  injustice,  cruelty,  and  oppression,  have 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  37 

been  our  practice  in  this  world  ;  or  if,  in  the  neglect  of  the  dis- 
tressed and  hungry,  we  have  given  up  ourselves  to  chambering 
and  wantonness,  to  gluttony  and  voluptuousness  ?  It  is  virtue 
and  obedience,  acts  of  goodness  and  mercy,  that  only  can  deliver 
us.  If  we  worship  in  spirit  and  in  truth  the  most  glorious  of 
immortal  beings,  that  God  who  is  omnipotent  in  wisdom  and 
action,  and  perform  all  the  offices  of  love  and  friendship  to  every 
man,  then  will  our  Lord  pronounce  us  the  blessed  of  his  Father. 
If  we  do  evil,  we  shall  come  forth  into  the  resurrection  of  dam- 
nation. This  merits  your  attention,  reader,  and  I  hope  you  will 
immediately  begin  to  ponder,  what  it  is  to  have  a  place  assigned 
in  inconceivable  happiness  or  misery  for  ever. 

Having  thus  lost  Miss  NOEL,  and  my  good  old  friend,  her 
worthy  father,  I  left  the  university,  and  went  down  to  the  country, 
after  five  years  and  three  months  absence,  to  see  how  things  were 
posited  at  home,  and  pay  my  respects  to  my  father  ;  but  I  found 
them  very  little  to  my  liking,  and  in  a  short  time,  returned  to 
Dublin  again.  He  had  lately  married  in  his  old  age  a  young 
wife,  who  was  one  of  the  most  artful,  false,  and  insolent  of  women, 
and  to  gratify  her  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  had  not  only 
brought  her  nephew  into  his  house,  but  was  ridiculously  fond  of 
him,  and  lavishly  gratified  all  his  desires.  Whatever  this  little 
brute,  the  son  of  a  drunken  beggar,  who  had  been  a  journeyman 
glover,  was  pleased,  in  wantonness,  to  call  for,  and  that  his  years, 
then  sixteen,  could  require,  my  father's  fortune  in  an  instant 
produced  ;  while  scarcely  one  of  my  rational  demands  could  be 
answered.  Money,  clothes,  servants,  horses,  dogs,  and  all  things 
he  could  fancy,  were  given  in  abundance  ;  and  to  please  the  basest 
of  women,  and  the  most  cruel  step-mother  that  ever  the  devil 
inspired  to  make  the  son  of  another  woman  miserable,  I  was 
denied  almost  everything.  The  liberal  allowance  I  had  at  the 
university  was  taken  from  me.  Even  a  horse  to  ride  out  to  the 
neighbouring  gentlemen,  was  refused  me,  though  my  father  had 
three  stables  of  extraordinary  cattle  ;  and  till  I  purchased  one, 
was  forced  to  walk  it,  wherever  I  had  a  mind  to  visit.  What  is 
still  more  incredible,  if  anything  of  severity  can  be  so,  when  a 
mother-in-law  is  sovereign,  I  was  not  allowed  to  keep  my  horse 
even  at  grass  on  the  land,  though  five  hundred  acres  of  freehold 
estate  surrounded  the  mansion,  but  obliged  to  graze  it  at  a 
neighbouring  farmer's.  Nor  was  this  all  the  hard  treatment  I 
received.  I  was  ordered  by  my  father  to  become  the  young 
man's  preceptor  ;  to  spend  my  precious  time  in  teaching  this 
youngster,  and  in  labouring  to  make  the  little  despicable  dunce 
a  scholar.  All  this  was  more  than  I  could  bear.  My  life  became 
insupportable,  and  I  resolved  to  range  even  the  wilds  of  Africa, 
if  nothing  better  offered,  rather  than  live  a  miserable  slave  under 
the  cruel  tyranny  of  those  unrelenting  oppressors. 


38  THE  LIFE  OF 


My  father,  however,  by  the  way,  was  as  fine  a  gentleman  as 
ever  lived,  a  man  of  extraordinary  understanding,  and  a  scholar  ; 
likewise  remarkably  just  and  good  to  all  the  world,  except  myself, 
after  I  left  the  university  :  and  to  do  him  all  the  justice  in  my 
power,  and  vindicate  him  so  far  as  I  am  able,  I  must  not  conceal, 
that  great  as  the  ascendancy  was,  which  my  mother-in-law  had 
over  him,  and  as  much  as  he  was  henpecked  by  that  low-bred 
woman,  who  had  been  his  servant  maid,  yet  it  was  not  to  her 
only  that  my  sufferings  were  owing.  Religion  had  a  hand  in 
my  misery.  False  religion  was  the  spring  of  that  paternal 
resentment  I  suffered  under. 

It  was  my  father's  being  wont  to  have  prayers  read  every 
night  and  morning  in  his  family,  and  the  office  was  the  litany  of 
the  common  prayer-book.  This  work,  on  my  coming  home, 
was  transferred  from  my  sister  to  me,  and  for  about  one  week  I 
performed  to  the  old  gentleman's  satisfaction,  as  my  voice  was 
good,  and  my  reading  distinct  and  clear  ;  but  this  office  was  far 
from  being  grateful  to  me,  as  I  was  become  a  strict  Unitarian, 
by  the  lessons  I  had  received  from  my  private  tutor  in  college, 
and  my  own  examinations  of  the  vulgar  faith.  It  went  against 
my  conscience  to  use  the  tritheistic  form  of  prayer,  and  became 
at  last  so  uneasy  to  me,  that  I  altered  the  prayers  the  first  Sunday 
morning,  and  made  them  more  agreeable  to  Scripture  as  I  con- 
ceived. My  father  at  this  was  very  highly  enraged,  and  his 
passion  arose  to  so  great  a  height,  upon  my  defending  my  con- 
fession, and  refusing  to  read  the  established  form,  that  he  called 
me  the  most  impious  and  execrable  of  wretches,  and  with  violence 
drove  me  from  his  presence.  Soon  after,  however,  he  sent  me 
Lord  Nottingham's  Letter  to  Mr.  Whiston,  and  desired  I  would 
come  over  to  him  when  I  had  carefully  read  it  over.  I  did  so, 
and  he  asked  me  what  I  thought  of  the  book.  I  answered,  that 
I  thought  it  a  weak  piece,  and  if  he  would  hear  me  with  patience, 
in  relation  to  that  in  particular,  and  to  the  case  in  general,  perhaps 
he  might  think  my  religion  a  little  better  than  at  present  he 
supposed  it  to  be.  "  I  will  hear  you,"  he  said,  "  proceed."  I 
then  immediately  began,  and  for  a  full  hour  repeated  an  apology 
I  had  prepared.*  He  did  not  interrupt  me  once,  and  when  I 
had  done,  all  he  replied  was,  "  I  see  you  are  to  be  placed  among 
the  incurables.  Begone,"  he  said,  with  stern  disdain  ;  and  I 

*  The  reader  will  find  this  apology  in  the  Appendix  to  this  life,  [see  note,  p.  41,  ante]. 
By  scripture  and  argument,  without  any  regard  to  the  notions  of  the  fathers,  I  there  endeavour 
to  prove,  that  God  the  Father,  the  beginning  and  cause  of  all  things,  is  One  Being,  infinite  in 
such  a  manner,  that  bis  infinity  is  an  infinity  of  fulness  as  well  as  immensity  ;  and  must.be 
not  only  without  limits,  but  also  without  diversity,  defect  or  interruption :  and  of  conse- 
quence his  Unity  so  true  and  real,  that  it  will  admit  of  no  diversity  or  distinction  of  persons  : — 
that  as  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  was  the  servant  chosen  of  this  tremendous  God,  to  redeem 
mankind  ;  but  his  holy  soul  so  far  in  perfection  above  Adam  or  any  of  his  posterity,  and  pos- 
sessed so  much  a  greater  share  of  the  indwelling  of  the  divine  life  and  nature  than  any  other 
creature,  that  he  might,  compared  to  us,  with  a  just  figure  of  speech,  be  called  God. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  39 

resolved  to  obey.  Indeed  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  stay,  for 
my  father  took  no  farther  notice  of  me,  and  my  mother-in- 
law  and  the  boy,  did  all  they  could  invent  to  render  my  life 
miserable. 

On  the  first  day  of  May,  1725  ;  early  in  the  morning,  as  the 
clock  struck  one,  I  mounted  my  excellent  mare,  and  with  my 
boy  O'FiN,  began  to  journey  as  I  had  projected,  on  seeing  how 
things  went.  I  did  not  communicate  my  design  to  a  soul,  nor 
took  my  leave  of  any  one,  but  in  the  true  spirit  of  adventure, 
abandoned  my  father's  dwelling,  and  set  out  to  try  what  fortune 
would  produce  in  my  favour.  I  had  the  world  before  me,  and 
Providence  my  guide.  As  to  my  substance  it  consisted  of  a 
purse  of  gold,  that  contained  fifty  Spanish  pistoles,  and  half  a 
score  moidores  ;  and  I  had  one  bank  note  for  five  hundred  pounds, 
which  my  dear  Miss  NOEL  left  me  by  her  will,  the  morning  she 
sickened  ;  it  was  all  she  had  of  her  own  to  leave  to  any  one.  With 
this  I  set  forward,  and  in  five  days  time  arrived  from  the  Western 
extremity  of  Ireland  at  a  village  called  Ring's-end,  that  lies  on 
the  Bay  of  Dublin.  Three  days  I  rested  there,  and  at  the  Con- 
niving House,*  and  then  got  my  horses  on  board  a  ship  that  was 
ready  to  sail,  and  bound  for  the  land  I  was  born  in,  I  mean  Old 
England. 

The  wind,  in  the  afternoon,  seemed  good  and  fair,  and  we  were 
in  hopes  of  getting  to  Chester  the  next  day  ;  but  at  midnight  a 
tempest  arose,  which  held  in  all  the  horrors  of  hurricane,  thunder 
and  lightning,  for  two  nights  and  a  day,  and  left  us  no  hope  of 
escape.  It  was  a  dreadful  scene  indeed,  and  looked  as  if  the  last 
fatal  assault  was  making  on  the  globe.  As  we  had  many  pas- 
sengers, their  cries  were  terrific,  and  affected  me  more  than  the 
flashing  fires  and  the  winds.  For  my  part,  I  was  well  reconciled 
to  the  great  change,  but  I  confess  that  nature  shrunk  at  the 
frightful  manner  of  my  going  off,  which  on  the  second  night,  I 
expected  every  moment.  At  last,  however,  we  got  into  White- 
haven.  It  pleased  the  great  King  of  all  the  earth  to  bid  the 
storm  Have  done. 

Four  remarkable  things  I  noticed  while  the  tempest  lasted. 
One  was  that  the  Dean  of  Derry,  DR.  WHALEY,  whom  we  had  on 
board,  who  had  nineteen  hundred  a  year  from  the  church,  for 


was  a 
on  the 

at  all  times,  and  in  the  season,  green  peas  and  all  the  most  excellent  vegetables.  The  ale 
here  was  always  extraordinary,  and  every  thing  the  best ;  which,  with  its  delightful  situation 
rendered  it  a  charming  place  of  a  summer's  evening.  Many  a  happy  evening  have  I  passed 
in  this  pretty  thatched  house  with  the  famous  LARREY  GROGAN,  who  played  on  the  bag-pipes 
extremely  well ;  dear  JACK  LATTIN,  matchless  on  the  fiddle,  and  the  most  agreeable  of  com- 
panions ;  that  ever  charming  young  fellow,  JACK  WALL,  the  son  of  counsellor  Maurice  Wall 
the  most  worthy,  the  most  ingenious,  the  most  engaging  of  men  ;  and  many  other  delightful 
fellows,  who  went  in  the  days  of  their  youth  to  the  shades  of  eternity.  When  I  think  of  them 
and  their  evening  songs  "  We  will  go  to  Johnny  M'Lean's  to  try  if  his  ale  be  good  or  not 
etc."  and  that  years  and  infirmities  begin  to  oppress  me — What  is  life ! 


40  THE  LIFE  OF 


teaching  the  people  to  be  Christians,  was  vastly  more  afraid  than 
one  young  lady  of  the  company,  who  appeared  quite  serene. 
The  Dean,  though  a  fine  orator  at  land,  was  ridiculous  in  his 
fears  at  sea.  He  screamed  as  loud  as  any  of  the  people  :  but  this 
young  lady  behaved,  like  an  angel  in  a  storm.  She  was  calm  and 
resigned,  and  sat  with  the  mate  and  me  during  the  second  night 
discoursing  of  the  divine  power,  and  the  laws  of  nature  in  such 
uproars.  By  the  way,  neither  mate,  nor  master,  nor  hand  could 
keep  the  deck.  The  ship  was  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  winds  and 
waves. 

The  second  remarkable  thing  was  that  as  this  young  lady  went 
naked  into  bed  in  her  cabin,  the  first  night  before  the  tempest 
began  to  stir,  it  was  not  many  hours  till  a  sea  struck  us  upon  the 
quarter,  and  drove  in  one  of  our  quarter,  and  one  of  our  stern 
dead  lights,  where  we  shipped  great  quantities  of  water,  that  put 
us  under  great  apprehensions  of  foundering,  and  filled  so  suddenly 
the  close  wooden  bed  in  which  Miss  MELMOTH  lay,  that  had  I  not 
chanced  to  be  leaning  against  the  partition,  and  snatched  her  out, 
the  moment  I  felt  myself  all  over  wet,  and  half  covered  with  the 
breaking  sea,  she  must  inevitably  have  perished.  I  ran  up  on 
deck  with  her  in  my  arms,  and  laid  her  almost  senseless  and  naked 
there,  and  as  there  was  no  staying  many  minutes  in  that  place, 
I  threw  my  great  coat  over  her,  and  then  brought  her  down  to  my 
own  berth,  which  I  gave  her,  and  got  her  dry  clothes  from  her 
trunk,  and  made  her  drink  a  large  glass  of  brandy,  which  saved 
her  life.  She  got  no  cold,  which  I  thought  very  strange,  but  was 
hurt  a  little  in  the  remove.  When  all  was  over  she  protested 
she  would  never  go  naked  into  bed,  on  board  ship,  again. 

The  third  particular  was,  that  there  were  some  officers  on 
board,  most  monstrously  wicked  men,  and  when  we  were  given 
over  by  the  captain,  and  no  hope  he  thought  of  being  saved, 
these  warriors  lamented  like  young  children,  and  were  the  most 
dismal  disturbing  howlers  on  board  :  yet,  when  we  got  on  land, 
they  had  done  with  O  Lord,  O  Lord,  and  began  again  their 
obscene  talk,  and  to  damn  themselves  at  every  word  to  the  centre 
of  hell. 

The  fourth  thing  was  this.  There  was  on  board  with  us  a 
young  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  one  PIERCE  GAVAN,  who 
had  been  a  fellow-commoner  in  my  time  of  Trinity,  Dublin.  The 
first  day  of  the  storm,  he  was  carried  over-board  by  a  rolling  sea, 
and  fairly  lodged  in  the  ocean,  at  above  twenty  yards  distance 
from  the  ship  ;  but  the  next  tumbling  billow  brought  him  back 
again.  He  was  laid  on  the  deck  without  any  hurt.  On  the 
contrary,  one  CHARLES  HENLEY,  a  young  merchant,  was  beat 
over,  and  we  never  saw  him  more. 

HENLEY  was  not  only  a  man  of  sense  and  prudence,  who  had 
an  honest  mind,  and  a  cultivated  understanding,  but  by  search 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  41 

and  enquiries  into  the  doctrines,  institutions  and  motives  of 
revealed  religion,  had  the  highest  regard  for  the  truths  of  genuine 
Christianity,  and  chose  the  best  means  in  his  power  to  make 
himself  acceptable  to  God. 

GAVAN,  on  the  contrary,  had  no  sense  of  religion,  nor  did  he 
ever  think  of  the  power  and  goodness  of  God.  He  was  a  most 
profane  swearer,  drank  excessively,  and  had  the  heart  to  debauch 
every  pretty  woman  he  saw,  if  it  had  been  possible  for  him  to  do 
so  much  mischief.  Yet  this  man,  who  never  reformed  that  I 
heard,  and  whose  impieties  have  even  shocked  young  fellows 
who  were  no  saints,  was  astonishingly  preserved  ;  and  HENLEY, 
who  had  the  most  just  natural  notions,  and  listened  to  Revelation, 
perished  miserably  !  How  shall  we  account  for  such  things  ? 
By  saying,  that  the  world  that  now  is,  and  the  world  that  is  to 
come,  are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  every  transaction  in  them  is 
quite  right,  though  the  reason  of  the  procedure  may  be  beyond 
our  view.  We  cannot  judge  certainly  of  the  ends  and  purposes 
of  Providence,  and  therefore  to  pass  judgment  on  the  ways  of 
God,  is  not  only  impious,  but  ridiculous  to  the  last  degree.  This 
we  know  for  certain,  that  whenever,  or  however,  a  good  man  falls, 
he  falls  into  the  hand  of  God,  and  since  we  must  all  die,  the  differ- 
ence as  to  time  and  manner,  signifies  very  little,  when  there  is 
an  infinite  wisdom  to  distinguish  every  case,  and  an  infinite 
goodness  to  compensate  all  our  miseries.  This  is  enough  for  a 
Christian.  Happy  is  the  man,  and  for  ever  safe,  let  what  will 
happen,  who  acts  a  rational  part,  and  has  the  fear  and  love  of 
God  in  his  thoughts.  With  pleasure  he  looks  into  all  the  scenes 
of  futurity.  When  storms  and  earthquakes  threaten  calamity, 
distress,  and  death,  he  maintains  an  inward  peace. 

May  loth. — When  we  had  obtained  the  wished  for  shore,  the 
passengers  all  divided.  The  Dean  and  his  lady,  and  some  other 
ladies,  went  one  way,  to  an  inn  recommended  to  them  by  a 
gentleman  on  board  ;  the  warriors  and  Gavan  marched  to  another 
house  ;  and  the  young  lady,  whose  life  was  by  me  preserved,  and  I, 
went  to  the  Talbot,  which  the  mate  informed  me  had  the  best 
things  and  lodgings,  though  the  smallest  inn  of  the  town.  This 
mate,  one  WHITWELL,  deserves  to  be  particularly  mentioned, 
as  he  was  remarkable  for  polite  breeding,  good  sense,  and  a 
considerable  share  of  learning,  though  a  sailor  ;  as  remarkable 
this  way,  as  the  captain  of  the  ship  was  the  other,  that  is  for  being 
the  roughest  and  most  brutal  old  tar  that  ever  commanded  a 
vessel. 

WHITWELL  the  mate,  about  thirty-six  years  of  age  at  this  time, 
told  me,  he  was  the  son  of  a  man  who  once  had  a  great  fortune, 
and  gave  him  a  university  education,  but  left  an  estate  so  encum- 
bered with  debts,  and  ruined  with  mortgages,  that  its  income 
was  almost  nothing,  and  therefore  the  son  sold  the  remains  of  it 


42  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  went  to  sea  with  an  East  India  captain,  in  the  twenty-second 
year  of  his  age,  and  was  so  fortunate  abroad,  that  he  not  only 
acquired  riches,  in  the  four  years  time  that  he  trafficked  about, 
between  Batavia  and  the  Gulph  of  Persia,  but  married  a  young 
Indian  lady,  the  daughter  of  a  Rajah,  or  petty  Prince  in  the  Mogul 
Empire  ;  who  was  rich,  wise  and  beautiful,  and  made  his  life  so 
very  happy,  for  the  three  years  she  lived,  that  his  state  was  a 
Paradise,  and  he  seemed  a  little  sovereign.  But  this  fleeting 
scene  was  soon  over,  and  on  his  return  to  England  with  all  his 
wealth,  their  ship  was  taken  by  the  pirates  of  Madagascar,  who 
robbed  him  of  all  he  had,  and  made  him  a  miserable  slave  for 
more  than  two  years,  when  he  escaped  from  them  to  the  tawny 
generation  of  Arabs,  who  lived  on  the  mountains,  the  other  side 
of  this  African  island,  who  used  him  with  great  humanity  ;  their 
chief  being  very  fond  of  him,  and  entertaining  him  in  his  mud- 
wall  palace  :  he  married  there  a  pretty  little  yellow  creature, 
niece  to  the  poor  ruler,  and  for  twelve  months  was  very  far  from 
being  miserable  with  this  partner,  as  they  had  a  handsome 
cottage  and  some  cattle,  and  this  wife  was  good-humour  itself, 
very  sensible,  and  a  religious  woman  ;  her  religion  being  half 
Mahometanism  and  half  Judaism.  But  she  died  at  the  year's 
end,  and  her  uncle  the  chief,  not  living  a  month  after  her,  WHIT- 
WELL  came  down  from  the  mountains  to  the  next  sea  coast  under 
the  conduct  of  one  of  the  Arabians,  his  friend,  and  meeting  with 
a  European  ship  there,  got  at  last  to  London.  A  little  money  he 
had  left  behind  him  in  England,  by  way  of  reserve,  in  case  of 
accidents,  if  he  should  ever  return  to  his  own  country,  he  regained, 
and  with  this  dressed  himself,  got  into  business,  and  came  at 
last  to  be  mate  of  the  ship  called  the  Skinner  and  Jenkins.  His 
destiny,  he  added,  was  untoward,  but  as  he  had  thought,  and 
read,  and  seen  enough  in  his  wide  travels,  to  be  convinced,  the 
world,  and  every  being,  and  every  atom  of  it  were  directed  and 
governed  by  unerring  wisdom,  he  derived  hopes  and  comforts 
from  a  due  acknowledgment  of  God.  There  are  more  born  to 
misery  than  to  happiness,  in  this  life ;  but  all  may  die  to  be  for 
ever  glorious  and  blessed,  if  they  please.  This  conclusion  was 
just  and  beautiful,  and  a  life  and  sentiments  so  uncommon  I 
thought  deserved  a  memorial. 

Miss  MELMOTH  and  I  continued  at  the  Talbot  for  three  weeks, 
and  during  that  time,  breakfasted,  dined,  and  supped  together. 
Except  the  hours  of  sleep  we  were  rarely  from  each  other.  We 
walked  out  together  every  day,  for  hours  conversed,  sometimes 
went  to  cards,  and  often  she  sung,  delightfully  sung,  while  on 
my  flute  I  played.  With  the  greatest  civility,  and  the  most  exact 
good  manners,  we  were  as  intimate  as  if  we  had  been  acquainted 
for  ages,  and  we  found  a  satisfaction  in  each  other's  company, 
as  great  as  lovers  generally  experience  ;  yet  not  so  much  as  one 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  43 

syllable  of  the  passion  was  mentioned  :  not  the  least  hint  of  love 
on  either  side  was  given,  while  we  stayed  at  Whitehaven  :  and 
I  believe  neither  of  us  had  a  thought  of  it.  It  was  a  friendship 
the  most  pure  and  exalted,  that  commenced  at  my  saving  her 
life,  in  the  manner  I  have  related,  and  by  some  strange  kind  of 
magic,  our  notions  and  inclinations,  tempers  and  sentiments,  had 
acquired  such  a  sameness  in  a  few  days,  that  we  seemed  as  two 
spiritual  sodas,  or  duplicates  of  each  other's  mind.  Body  was 
quite  out  of  the  case,  though  this  lady  had  an  extravagance  of 
beauty.  My  sole  delight  was  that  fine  percipient,  which  shed  a 
lustre  on  her  outward  charms.  How  long  this  state  would  have 
lasted,  had  we  continued  more  time  together,  and  had  the  image 
of  the  late  Miss  NOEL  been  more  effaced,  or  worn  out  of  the  sensory 
of  my  head,  I  cannot  say  ;  but  while  it  did  last,  there  could  be 
nothing  more  strange.  To  see  two  young  people  of  different 
sexes,  in  the  highest  spirits  and  most  confirmed  health  live 
together,  for  twenty-one  days,  perfectly  pleased  with  each  other, 
entirely  at  their  own  disposal,  and  as  to  fortune,  having  abun- 
dantly enough  between  them  both  for  a  comfortable  life  ;  [and  yet 
never  utter  one  word,  nor  give  a  look,  that  could  be  construed 
a  declaration  of  the  passion,  or  a  tendency  towards  a  more 
intimate  union  ;  to  complete  that  connexion  which  nature  and 
providence  requires  of  beings  circumstanced  as  we  were  :  was 
very  odd.  We  sat  up  till  the  clock  struck  twelve  every  night, 
and  talked  of  a  vast  variety  of  things,  from  the  Bible  down  to  the 
Clouds  of  Aristophanes,  and  from  the  comedies  and  tragedies  of 
Greece  and  Rome  to  the  Minerva  of  Sanctius,  and  Hickes's 
Northern  Thesaurus.  Instead  of  Venus  or  any  of  her  court,  our 
conversation  would  often  be  on  the  Morals  of  Cicero,  his  Acade- 
mics, and  De  Finibus  ;  on  the  English  or  the  Roman  History  ; 
Shakespeare's  scenes  of  nature,  or  maps  of  life  ;  whether  the 
(Edipus  or  the  Electra  of  Sophocles  was  the  best  tragedy  ;  and 
the  scenes  in  which  Plautus  and  Terence  most  excelled.  Like 
two  critics,  or  two  grammarians,  antiquarians,  historians,  or 
philosophers,  would  we  pass  the  evening  with  the  greatest  cheer- 
fulness and  delight. 

Miss  MELMOTH  had  an  astonishing  memory,  and  talked  on 
every  subject  extremely  well.  She  remembered  all  she  had  read. 
Her  judgment  was  strong,  and  her  reflections  always  good.  She 
told  me  her  mother  was  another  Mrs.  Dacier,  and  as  her  father 
was  killed  in  a  duel,  when  she  was  very  young,  the  widow  MEL- 
MOTH,  instead  of  going  into  the  world,  continued  to  live  at  her 
country  seat,  and  diverted  herself  with  teaching  her  daughter 
the  languages  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and  in  educating  her  heart 
and  mind.  This  made  this  young  lady  a  master  of  the  Latin 
tongue  and  Greek,  and  enabled  her  to  acquire  a  knowledge  so 
various  and  fine,  that  it  was  surprising  to  hear  her  expatiate  and 


44  THE  LIFE  OF 


explain.  She  talked  with  so  much  ease  and  good  humour,  and 
had  a  manner  so  cheerful  and  polite,  that  her  discourse  was 
always  entertaining,  even  though  the  subject  happened  to  be,  as 
it  was  one  evening,  the  paulo  post  future  of  a  Greek  verb. 
These  things,  however,  were  not  the  only  admirable  ones  in  this 
character.  So  happily  had  her  good  mother  formed  and  instructed 
her  mind,  that  it  appeared  full  of  all  the  principles  of  rational 
honour,  and  devoted  to  that  truly  God-like  religion,  which  exalts 
the  soul  to  an  affection  rather  than  dread  of  the  supreme  Lord  of 
things,  and  to  a  conviction  that  his  laws  lead  us  both  to  happiness 
here  and  hereafter.  She  thoroughly  understood  the  use  and 
excellence  of  Revelation,  and  had  extracted  from  the  inspired 
volumes  everlasting  comfort  and  security  under  the  apprehen- 
sions of  the  divine  power  and  majesty  :  but  she  told  me  she  could 
not  think  rites  and  outward  performances  were  essential  to  real 
religion.  She  considered  what  was  just  and  beautiful  in  these 
things  as  useful  and  assisting  only  to  the  devout  mind.  In  a 
word,  this  young  lady  was  wise  and  good,  humble  and  charitable. 
I  have  seen  but  one  of  her  sex  superior  to  her  in  the  powers  of 
mind  and  the  beauties  of  body,  and  that  was  Miss  NOEL.  Very 
few  have  I  known  that  were  equal. 

The  second  day  of  June,  Miss  MELMOTH  and  I  left  Whitehaven, 
and  proceeded  from  thence  to  Westmoreland.  We  travelled  for 
five  days  together,  till  we  came  to  Brugh  under  Stainmore, 
where  we  stayed  a  night  at  Lamb's,  a  house  I  recommend  to  the 
reader,  if  ever  he  goes  that  way  ;  and  the  next  morning  we  parted. 
Miss  MELMOTH  and  her  servants  went  right  onwards  to 
Yorkshire,  and  I  turned  to  the  left  to  look  for  one  CHARLES 
TURNER,  who  had  been  my  near  friend  in  the  university,  and  who 
lived  in  some  part  of  the  north  east  extremity  of  Westmoreland, 
or  Yorkshire.  But  before  we  separated  on  the  edge  of  Stainmore, 
we  stopped  at  the  Bell  to  Breakfast,  which  is  a  little  lone  house 
on  a  descent  to  a  vast  romantic  glen,  and  all  the  public  house 
there  is  in  this  wild  silent  road,  till  you  come  to  JACK  RAILTON, 
the  quaker's  house  at  Bows.  We  had  a  pot  of  coffee  and  toast 
and  butter  for  breakfast,  and,  as  usual,  we  were  very  cheerful 
over  it ;  but  when  we  had  done,  and  it  was  time  to  depart,  a 
melancholy,  like  a  black  and  dismal  cloud,  began  to  overspread 
the  charming  face  of  CHARLOTTE,  and  after  some  silence,  the 
tears  burst  from  her  eyes.  "  What  is  the  matter,  Miss  MEL- 
MOTH," I  said  :  "  what  makes  this  amazing  change  ?  "  "I  will 
tell  you,  sir,"  this  beauty  replied.  "  To  you  I  owe  my  life,  and 
for  three  weeks  past  have  lived  with  you  in  so  very  happy  a  way, 
that  the  end  of  such  a  scene,  and  the  probability  of  my  never 
seeing  you  more,  is  too  much  for  me."  "  Miss  MELMOTH,"  I 
answered,  "  you  do  me  more  honour  than  I  deserve  in  shedding 
tears  for  me,  and  since  you  can  think  me  worth  seeing  again,  I 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  45 

promise  you  upon  my  sacred  word,  that  as  soon  as  I  have  found  a 
beloved  friend  of  mine  I  am  going  up  the  hills  to  look  for,  and 
have  paid  my  respects  to  him  for  a  while,  if  he  is  to  be  found  in 
this  desolate  part  of  the  world,  I  will  travel  with  my  face  in  the 
next  place,  if  it  be  possible,  towards  the  east-riding  of  Yorkshire, 
and  be  at  Mrs.  ASGIL'S  door,  where  you  say  you  are  to  be  found." 
This  restored  the  glories  to  CHARLOTTE'S  face  again,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  gave  Miss  MELMOTH  a  kiss,  and  bade  her  adieu. 

June  8th. — Having  thus  lost  my  charming  companion,  I 
travelled  into  a  vast  valley,  enclosed  by  mountains  whose  tops 
were  above  the  clouds,  and  soon  came  into  a  country  that  is 
wilder  than  the  campagna  of  Rome,  or  the  uncultivated  vales  of 
the  Alps  and  Appenines.  Warm  with  a  classical  enthusiasm, 
I  journeyed  on,  and  with  fancy's  eye  beheld  the  rural  divinities, 
in  those  sacred  woods  and  groves,  which  shade  the  sides  of  many 
of  the  vast  surrounding  fells,  and  the  shores  and  promontories 
of  many  lovely  lakes  and  bright  running  streams.  For  several 
hours  I  travelled  over  mountains  tremendous  to  behold,  and 
through  vales  the  most  enchanting  in  the  world.  Not  a  man  or 
house  could  I  see  in  eight  hours  time,  but  towards  five  in  the 
afternoon,  there  appeared  at  the  foot  of  a  hill  a  sweetly  situated 
cottage,  that  was  half  covered  with  trees,  and  stood  by  the  side 
of  a  large  falling  stream  :  a  vale  extended  to  the  south  from  the 
door,  that  was  terminated  with  rocks,  and  precipices  on  precipices, 
in  an  amazing  point  of  view,  and  through  the  flowery  ground,  the 
water  was  beautifully  seen,  as  it  winded  to  a  deeper  flood  at  the 
bottom  of  the  vale.  Half  a  dozen  cows  were  grazing  in  view  : 
and  a  few  flocks  of  feeding  sheep  added  to  the  beauties  of  the 
scene. 

To  this  house  I  sent  my  boy,  to  inquire  who  lived  there,  and 
to  know,  if  for  the  night  I  could  be  entertained,  as  I  knew  not 
where  else  to  go.  O'FiN  very  quickly  returned,  and  informed 
me,  that  one  farmer  PRICE  was  the  owner  of  the  place,  but  had 
gone  in  the  morning  to  the  next  town,  and  that  his  wife  said  I 
was  welcome  to  what  her  house  afforded.  In  then  I  went,  and 
was  most  civilly  received  by  an  exceedingly  pretty  woman,  who 
told  me  her  husband  would  soon  be  at  home, -and  be  glad,  she  was 
sure,  to  see  me  at  their  lonely  place  ;  for  he  was  no  stranger  to 
gentlemen  and  the  world,  though  at  present  he  rarely  conversed 
with  any  one.  She  told  me,  their  own  supper  would  be  ready  in 
an  hour  hence,  and  in  the  meantime  would  have  me  take  a  can 
of  fine  ale  and  a  bit  of  bread.  She  brought  me  a  cup  of  extra- 
ordinary malt-drink  and  a  crust,  and  while  I  was  eating  my 
bread,  in  came  Mr.  PRICE. 

The  man  seemed  very  greatly  astonished  at  entering  the  room, 
and  after  he  had  looked  with  great  earnestness  at  me  for  a  little 
while,  he  cried  out,  "  Good  heaven  !  What  do  I  see  !  FALSTAFF, 


46  THE  LIFE  OF 


my  class-fellow,  and  my  second  self.  My  dear  friend  you  are 
welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  this  part  of  the  world."  All  this 
surprised  me  not  a  little,  for  I  could  not  recollect  at  once  a  face 
that  had  been  greatly  altered  by  the  small-pox  :  and  it  was  not  till 
I  reflected  on  the  name  PRICE,  that  I  knew  I  was  then  in  the  house 
of  one  of  my  school-fellows,  with  whom  I  had  been  most  intimate, 
and  had  played  the  part  of  Plump  Jack  in  Henry  the  Fourth, 
when  he  did  Prince  Henry.  This  was  an  unexpected  meeting 
indeed  :  and  considering  the  place,  and  all  the  circumstances 
belonging  to  the  scene,  a  thing  more  strange  and  affecting  never 
came  in  my  way.  Our  pleasure  at  this  meeting  was  very  great, 
and  when  the  most  affectionate  salutations  were  over,  my  friend 
PRICE  proceeded  in  the  following  manner. 

"  Often  have  I  remember'd  you  since  we  parted,  and  exclusive 
of  the  Greek  and  English  plays  we  have  acted  together  at  Sheri- 
dan's school,*  in  which  you  acquired  no  small  applause,  I  have 
frequently  thought  of  our  frolicsome  rambles  in  vacation  time, 
and  the  merry  dancings  we  had  at  Mother  Red-Cap's  in  Back- 
Lane  ;  the  hurling  matches  we  have  play'd  at  Dolphin's-barn, 
and  the  cakes  and  ale  we  used  to  have  at  the  Organ-house  on 
Arbor-Hill,  These  things  have  often  occurred  to  my  mind  :  but 
little  did  I  think  we  should  ever  meet  again  on  Stainmore-hills. 
What  strange  things  does  time  produce  !  It  has  taken  me  from  a 
town  life  to  live  on  the  most  solitary  part  of  the  globe  : — and  it 
has  brought  you  to  journey  where  never  man  I  believe  even 
thought  of  travelling  before."  "  So  it  is,"  I  replied,  "  and  strange 
things,  dear  JACK,  may  happen  yet  before  our  eyes  are  closed  : 
why  I  journey  this  untravelled  way,  I  will  inform  you  by  and  by  ; 
when  you  have  told  me  by  what  strange  means  you  came  to  dwell 
in  this  remote  and  silent  vale."  "  That  you  shall  know,"  said  he, 
"  very  soon,  as  soon  as  we  have  eaten  a  morsel  of  something  or 
other  which  my  dear  MARTHA  has  prepared  against  my  return. 
Here  it  comes,  a  fowl,  bacon  and  greens,  and  as  fine  I  will  answer 
as  London  market  could  yield.  Let  us  sit  down,  my  friend  and 
God  bless  us  and  our  meat." 

Down  then  we  sat  immediately  to  our  dish,  and  most  excellent 
every  thing  was.  The  social  goodness  of  this  fond  couple  added 
greatly  to  the  pleasure  of  the  meal,  and  with  mirth  and  friendship 
we  eat  up  our  capon,  our  bacon,  and  our  greens.  When  we  had 
done,  PRICE  brought  in  pipes  and  tobacco,  and  a  fresh  tankard  of 
his  admirable  ale.  "  Listen  now,  said  he,  "  to  my  story,  and  then 
I  will  hearken  to  yours. 

"  When  I  left  you  at  Sheridan's  school,  my  remove  was  from 

*  The  School-house  of  the  famous  Dr.  Sheridan,  in  Capel  Street,  Dublin,  where  many  of 
the  younger  branches  of  the  most  distinguished  families  in  Ireland,  at  that  period  received 
the  first  rudiments  of  their  education;  was  formerly  King  James  II. 's  Mint-house.  The 
only  view  of  it  extant,  is  a  vignette  in  Samuel  Whyte's  Poems,  printed  by  Subscription  at 
Dublin,  in  1793.  8vo.  p.  44.  ED. 


JOHN  BUNGLE.  ESQ.  47 

Ireland  to  Barbadoes,  to  become  a  rich  uncle's  heir,  and  I  got  by 
my  Indian  airing  a  hundred  thousand  pounds.     There  I  left  the 
bones  of  my  mother's  brother,  after  I  had  lived  two  years  in  that 
burning  place,  and  from  thence  proceeded  to  London,  to  spend 
what  an  honest,  laborious  man  had  long  toiled  to  save.     But  I  had 
not  been  above  three  months  in  the  capital  of  England,  when  it 
came  into  my  head  to  pass  some  time  in  France,  and  with  a  girl  I 
kept  made  haste  to  the  French  metropolis.     There  I  lived  at  a 
grand  rate,  and  took  from  the  French  Opera-house  another  whore. 
The  Gaul  and  the  Briton  were  both  extreme  fine  girls,  and  agreed 
so  well  together,  that  I  kept  them  both  in  one  house.     I  thought 
myself  superlatively  happy  in  having  such  a  brace  of  females,  and 
spared  no  cost  in  procuring  them  all  the  finery  and  pleasures  that 
Paris  and  London  could  yield.     I  had  a  furnished  house  in  both 
these  cities,  and  with  an  expensive  equipage  went  backwards  and 
forwards.     In  four  years  time  I  spent  a  great  deal  of  money,  and 
as  I  had  lost  large  sums  at  play,  and  these  two  whores  agreed  in 
the  end  to  rob  me,  and  retire  with  the  money,  where  I  should  never 
discover  them,  I  found  myself  in  very  middling  circumstances, 
and  had  not  six  hundred  pounds  left  in  the  fourth  year  from  my 
uncle's  death.     How  to  dispose  of  this  and  myself  was  now  the 
question.     What  I  should  do,  was  my  deliberation,  to  secure  bread 
and  quiet  ?  Many  a  thoughtful  hour  this  gave  me,  and  at  length 
I  determined  to  purchase  a  little  annuity.     But  before  this  could 
be  effected,  I  went  down  to  Westmoreland,  on  an  information  I 
had  received,  that  my  two  ladies  were  at  Appleby  with  other 
names,  and  on  my  money  appeared  as  women  of  fortune.     But 
this  journey  was  to  no  purpose,  and  I  was  preparing  to  return  to 
London,  when  my  wife  you  saw  at  the  head  of  the  table  a  while 
ago,  came  by  chance  in  my  way,  and  pleased  me  so  well  with  her 
good  understanding,  face  and  person,  that  I  resolved  to  marry 
her,  if  she  would  have  me,  and  give  her  the  management  of  my  five 
hundred  pounds  on  a  farm,  as  she  was  a  farmer's  daughter,  and 
could  manage  one  to  good  advantage.     Her  father  was  lately 
dead,  and  this  little  mountain  farm  she  continued  to  occupy  : 
therefore  nothing  could  be  more  to  my  purpose,  if  I  could  prevail 
on  her  to  make  me  her  husband,  and  with  some  difficulty  she  did, 
to  my  unspeakable  felicity.     She  had  no  money  worth  mention- 
ing :  but  her  house  was  pretty  and  comfortable,  and  her  land  had 
grain  and  cattle  ;  and  as  I  threw  into  her  lap  my  five  hundred 
pounds,  a  little  before  we  were  married,  to  be  by  her  disposed  of 
and  managed,  according  to  her  pleasure  she  soon  made  some  good 
improvements  and  additions,  and  by  her  fine  understanding,  sweet 
temper,  and  every  Christian  virtue,  continues  to  render  my  life  so 
completely  happy  ;  so  joyous  and  delightful ;  that  I  would  not 
change  my  partner  and  condition,  for  one  of  the  first  quality  and 
greatest  fortune.     In  her  I  have  every  thing  I  could  wish  for  in  a 


48  THE  LIFE  OF 


wife  and  a  woman,  and  she  makes  it  the  sole  study  and  pleasure 
of  her  life  to  crown  my  every  day  with  the  highest  satisfactions 
and  comforts.  Two  years  have  I  lived  with  her  on  these  wild 
mountains,  and  in  that  time  I  have  not  had  one  dull  or  painful 
minute,  but  in  thinking  that  I  may  lose  her,  and  be  the  wretched 
survivor.  That  thought  does  sometimes  wound  me.  In  sum, 
my  friend,  we  are  the  happiest  01  wedded  mortals,  and  on  this 
small  remote  farm,  live  in  a  state  of  bliss  to  be  envied.  This  proves 
that  happiness  does  not  flow  from  riches  only  :  but,  that  where 
pure,  and  perfect  love,  strict  virtue,  and  unceasing  industry,  are 
united  in  the  conjugal  state,  they  can  make  the  Stainmore  moun- 
tains a  Paradise  to  mortals  in  peace  and  little. 

"  But  it  is  not  only  happiness  in  this  world  that  I  have  acquired 
by  this  admirable  woman,  but  life  eternal.  You  remember,  my 
friend,  what  a  wild  and  wicked  one  I  was  when  a  school-boy,  and 
as  Barbadoes  of  all  parts  of  the  globe  is  no  place  to  improve  a  man's 
morals  in,  I  returned  from  thence  to  Europe  as  debauched  a  sceler- 
ate  as  ever  offended  Heaven  by  blasphemy  and  illiberal  gratifi- 
cations. Even  my  losses  and  approaching  poverty  were  not  cap- 
able of  making  any  great  change  in  me.  When  I  was  courting  my 
wife,  she  soon  discerned  my  impiety,  and  perceived  that  I  had  very 
little  notion  of  hell  and  heaven,  death  and  judgment.  This  she 
made  a  principal  objection  against  being  concerned  with  me,  and 
told  me  she  could  not  venture  into  a  married  connexion  with  a 
man,  who  had  no  regard  to  the  divine  laws,  and  therefore,  if  she 
could  not  make  me  a  Christian,  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word, 
she  would  never  be  Mrs.  PRICE. 

"  This  from  a  plain  country  girl,  surprised  me  not  a  little,  and 
my  astonishment  rose  very  high,  when  I  heard  her  talk  of  religion, 
and  the  great  end  of  both,  a  blessed  life  after  this.  She  soon 
convinced  me  that  religion  was  the  only  means  by  which  we  can 
arrive  at  true  happiness,  by  which  we  can  attain  to  the  last 
perfection  and  dignity,  of  our  nature,  and  that  the  authority 
and  word  of  God  is  the  surest  foundation  of  religion.  The 
substance  of  what  she  said  is  as  follows.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
lesson. 

"  The  plain  declarations  of  our  Master  in  the  Gospel  restore 
the  dictates  of  uncorrupted  reason  to  their  force  and  authority, 
and  give  us  just  notions  of  God  and  ourselves.  They  instruct 
us  in  the  nature  of  the  Deity,  discover  to  us  his  unity,  holiness, 
and  purity,  and  afford  certain  means  of  obtaining  eternal  life. 
Revelation  commands  us  to  worship  one  Supreme  God,  the 
Supreme  Father  of  all  things  ;  and  to  do  his  will,  by  imitating 
his  perfections,  and  practising  everything  recommended  by  that 
law  of  reason,  which  he  sent  the  Messiah  to  revive  and  enforce  : 
that  by  repentance,  and  righteousness,  and  acts  of  devotion,  we 
may  obtain  the  divine  favour,  and  share  in  the  glories  of  futurity  ; 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  49 

for,  the  Supreme  Director,  whose  goodness  gives  counsel  to  his 
powers,  commanded  us  into  existence  to  conduct  us  to  everlasting 
happiness,  and  therefore  teaches  us  by  his  Son  to  pray,  to  praise, 
and  to  repent,  that  we  may  be  entitled  to  a  nobler  inheritance 
than  this  world  knows,  and  obtain  life  and  immortality,  and  all 
the  joys  and  blessings  of  the  heavenly  Canaan.  This  was  the 
godlike  design  of  our  Creator.  That  superior  agent,  who  acts 
not  by  arbitrary  will,  but  by  the  maxims  of  unclouded  reason, 
when  he  made  us  and  stationed  us  in  this  part  of  his  creation, 
had  no  glory  of  his  own  in  view,  but  what  was  perfectly  consistent 
with  a  just  regard  to  the  felicity  of  his  rational  subjects. 

"  It  was  this  made  the  apostle  show  Felix  the  unalterable 
obligations  to  justice  and  equity  ;  to  temperance,  or  a  command 
over  the  appetites  ;  and  then,  by  displaying  the  great  and  awful 
judgment  to  come,  urge  him  to  the  practice  of  these,  and  all  the 
other  branches  of  morality  ;  that  by  using  the  means  prescribed 
by  God,  and  acting  up  to  the  conditions  of  salvation,  he  might 
escape  that  dreadful  punishment,  which  in  the  reason  and  nature 
of  things,  is  connected  with  vice,  and  which  the  good  govern- 
ment of  the  rational  world  requires  should  be  inflicted  on  the 
wicked  ;  and  might  on  the  contrary  by  that  mercy  offered  to  the 
world  through  Jesus  Christ,  secure  those  immense  rewards, 
which  are  promised  to  innocence  and  the  testimony  of  an  upright 
heart.  This  faith  in  Christ,  St.  Paul  placed  before  the  Roman 
governor  in  the  best  light.  He  described  the  complexion  and 
genius  of  the  Christian  faith.  He  represented  it  as  revealing 
the  wrath  of  God  against  all  immorality  ;  and  as  joining  with 
reason  and  uncorrupted  nature,  enforcing  the  practice  of  every 
moral  and  social  duty. 

•'  What  effect  this  discourse  had  on  Felix,"  continued  MARTHA, 
"  in  producing  faith,  that  is,  morality  in  an  intelligent  agent, 
we  are  told  by  the  apostle.  He  trembled  :  but  iniquity  and  the 
world  had  taken  such  a  hold  of  him,  that  he  dismissed  the  subject 
and  turned  from  a  present  uneasiness  to  profit  and  the  enjoyment 
of  sin.  He  had  done  with  St.  Paul,  and  sacrificed  the  hopes  of 
eternity  to  the  world  and  its  delights. 

"  But  this,"  concluded  MARTHA,  "  will  not  I  hope  be  your  case. 
As  a  judgment  to  come  is  an  awful  subject,  you  will  ponder  in 
time,  and  look  into  your  own  mind.  As  a  man,  a  reasonable  and 
social  creature,  designed  for  duty  to  a  God  above  you,  and  to  a 
world  of  fellow  creatures  around  you,  you  will  consider  the  rules 
of  virtue  and  morality,  and  be  no  longer  numbered  with  those 
miserable  mortals,  who  are  doomed  to  condemnation  upon  their 
disobedience.  Those  rules  lie  open  in  a  perfect  gospel,  and  the 
wicked  can  have  nothing  to  plead  for  their  behaviour.  They 
want  no  light  to  direct  them.  They  want  no  assistance  to  support 
them  in  doing  their  duty.  They  have  a  gospel  to  bring  them  to 


So  THE  LIFE  OF 


life  and  salvation,  if  they  will  but  take  notice  of  it ;  and  if  they 
will  not  walk  in  the  light  of  God's  law,  this  gospel  must  be  their 
judgment  and  condemnation." 

"  Say  then,  Sir,"  MARTHA  proceeded,  "can  you  be  prevailed 
on  to  think  of  religion  in  its  native  purity  and  simplicity,  and  by 
the  power  of  the  gospel,  to  act  with  regard  to  virtue  and  piety, 
that  when  Christ  shall  come  not  only  in  the  power,  but  in  the 
wisdom  and  the  justice  of  God,  to  judge  the  world,  you  may  be 
secured  from  that  misery  and  distress,  which  is  prepared  for 
iniquity  ;  and  enjoy  that  eternal  life,  which  is  to  be  the  portion 
of  the  righteous  ?  " 

"  In  this  extraordinary  manner  did  MARTHA  HARRINGTON 
discourse  me,  and  the  effect  of  it  was  that  I  began  a  thorough 
reform  from  that  hour.  My  rational  life  from  that  happy  day 
commenced,  and  I  entered  seriously  into  my  own  breast,  to 
think  in  earnest  of  that  solemn  judgment  to  come.  What 
MARTHA  said  was  so  clear  and  strong,  that  I  had  not  a  thought 
of  replying,  but  truth  at  once  entirely  subdued  my  heart,  and  I 
flew  to  the  Son  of  God,  to  request  his  intercession  with  the  Father 
of  the  Universe  for  the  pardon  of  all  my  crimes.  The  dignity  and 
end  of  my  being  has  since  been  the  subject  of  my  meditations, 
and  I  live  convinced,  that  everything  is  contemptible,  that  is 
inconsistent  with  duty  and  morality.  This  renders  even  my 
pleasures  more  agreeable.  This  gives  eternal  peace  to  my  mind." 

Here  PRICE  ended  his  remarkable  story,  and  according  to  our 
agreement,  I  began  to  relate  what  happened  to  me  from  the  time 
we  parted  at  school,  and  concluded  with  informing  him,  that  I 
was  going  in  search  of  CHARLES  TURNER,  my  near  friend,  when 
fortune  brought  me  to  his  house  :  that  this  gentleman  lived  some- 
where towards  the  confines  of  Cumberland  and  the  North  Riding 
of  Yorkshire,  but  where  the  spot  was  I  could  not  tell,  nor  did  I 
know  well  how  to  go  on,  as  the  country  before  me  seemed  impass- 
able, on  account  of  its  mountains,  precipices,  and  floods.  "  I 
must  try,  however,  what  can  be  done  ;  not  only  in  regard  to  this 
gentleman  ;  but,  because  I  have  reason  to  think  it  may  be  very 
much  to  my  advantage,  as  he  is  very  rich,  and  the  most  generous 
of  men.  If  he  is  to  be  found,  I  know  I  shall  be  welcome  to  share 
in  his  happiness  as  long  as  I  please,  nor  will  it  be  any  weight  to 
him."  PRICE  to  this  replied,  that  I  was  most  heartily  welcome 
to  him  as  long  as  I  pleased  to  stay,  and  that  though  he  was  far 
from  being  a  rich  man,  yet  he  had  every  day  enough  for  himself 
and  one  more  ;  and  his  MARTHA  he  was  sure  would  be  as  well 
pleased  with  my  company,  as  if  I  had  been  his  own  brother, 
since  she  knew  I  was  his  esteemed  friend.  In  respect  of  the  way, 
he  said,  he  would  enable  me  to  find  Mr  TURNER,  if  he  could,  but 
the  country  was  difficult  to  travel,  and  he  doubted  very  much  if 
one  could  go  to  the  extremity  of  Cumberland  or  Yorkshire  over 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  5* 

the  hills  ;  but  we  would  try,  however,  and  if  it  was  possible,  find 
out  Mr.  TURNER'S  house.  Yet  solely  with  him  I  must  not  stay, 
if  he  could  be  seen.  I  must  live  between  both,  till  I  got  some 
northern  girl,  and  had  a  wife  and  habitation  of  my  own  :  "  and 
there  is,"  continued  Price,  "  not  many  miles  from  me,  a  sweet 
pretty  lass,  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  farmer,  who  is  a  very 
good  man,  and  would,  I  believe,  upon  my  recommendation,  give 
you  his  girl  and  a  sum  of  money,  to  sit  down  on  those  hills." 
"  This  is  vastly  kind,  Jack,"  said  I,  "  and  what  I  shall  gratefully 
remember  so  long  as  I  live.  I  may  ride  many  a  mile  I  am  sure, 
and  be  an  adventurer  many  a  long  day,  before  I  meet  with  such 
offers  again.  Your  sweetly  situated  house  and  good  things, 
with  a  fine  northern  girl  and  money  down,  are  benefits  not  to  be 
met  with  every  day.  But  at  present  the  object  I  must  pursue 
is  my  university  friend,  CHARLES  TURNER,  and  if  you  please  to 
do  me  the  great  favour  of  guiding  me  so  far  as  you  can  over  this 
wild,  uninhabited  land,  after  I  have  stayed  with  you  for  the  first 
time,  two  or  three  days,  and  promise  to  abide  many  more  hereafter 
if  it  be  in  my  power,  we  will  set  out  in  quest  of  what  I  want." 
"  As  you  will,"  my  friend  PRICE  replied,  "  and  for  the  present  let 
us  be  gay.  Here  comes  my  beloved  with  a  little  bowl  of  punch, 
and  as  she  sings  extremely  well,  and  you  have  not  forgot  I  fancy 
our  old  song,  we  will  have  it  over  our  nectar.  You  shall  represent 
Janus  and  Momus,  and  I  will  be  Chronos  and  Mars,  and  my  wife 
Diana  and  Venus.  Let  us  take  a  glass  first — '  THE  LIBERTIES 
OF  THE  WORLD,'  and  then  do  you  begin."  We  drank,  and  in  the 
following  manner  I  went  on. 

SONG. 

JANUS. 

Chronos,  Chronos,  mend  thy  pace, 
A  hundred  times  the  rolling  sun,  . 
Around  the  radiant  belt  has  run, 

In  his  revolving  race. 
Behold,  behold,  the  goal  in  sight, 
Spread  thy  fans,  and  wing  thy  flight. 

CHRONOS. 

Weary,  weary  of  my  weight, 
Let  me,  let  me  drop  my  freight, 
And  leave  the  world  behind. 

I  could  not  bear 

Another  year 
The  load  of  human  kind. 


Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  well  hast  thou  done, 

To  lay  down  thy  pack, 

And  lighten  thy  back. 
The  world  was  a  fool,  e'er  since  it  begun. 


52  THE  LIFE  OF 


And  since  neither  Janus,  nor  Chronos,  nor  I, 

Can  hinder  the  crimes, 

Or  mend  the  bad  times, 
'Tis  better  to  laugh  than  to  cry. 

CHORUS. 
'Tis  better  to  laugh  than  to  cry. 

JANUS. 
Since  Momus  comes  to  laugh  below, 

Old  Time  begin  the  show  ! 
That  he  may  see,  in  every  scene, 
What  changes  in  this  age  have  been  ; 

CHRONOS. 
Then  goddess  of  the  silver  bow  begin  ! 


With  horns  and  with  hounds  I  waken  the  day, 

And  hye  to  my  woodland  walks  away  ; 

I  tuck  up  my  robe,  and  am  buskin'd  soon, 

And  tye  to  my  forehead  a  waxing  moon  ; 

I  course  the  fleet  stag,  unkennel  the  fox, 

And  chase  the  wild  goats  o'er  summits  of  rocks, 

With  shouting  and  hooting  we  pierce  through  the  sky 

And  echo  turns  hunter,  and  doubles  the  cry. 


With  shouting  and  hooting  we  pierce  through  the  sky, 
And  echo  turns  hunter,  and  doubles  the  cry. 

JANUS. 

Then  our  age  was  in  its  prime, 

CHRONOS. 
Free  from  rage, 

DIANA. 

And  free  from  crime. 

MOMUS. 

A  very  merry,  dancing,  drinking, 
Laughing,  quaffing,  and  unthinking  time- 

CHORUS. 

Then  our  age  was  in  its  prime, 
Free  from  rage,  and  free  from  crime. 
A  very  merry,  dancing,  drinking, 
Laughing,  quaffing,  and  unthinking  time. 
MARS. 

Inspire  the  vocal  brass,  inspire  ; 
The  world  is  past  its  infant  age 

Arms  and  honour, 

Arms  and  honour, 
Set  the  martial  mind  on  fire, 
And  kindle  manly  rage. 
Mars  has  look'd  the  sky  to  red  ; 
And  peace,  the  lazy  good,  is  fled. 
Plenty,  peace,  and  pleasure  fly  ; 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  53 

The  sprightly  green 
In  Woodland  walks,  no  more  is  seen ; 
The  sprightly  green  has  drank  the  Tyrian  dye. 

CHORUS. 

Plenty,  peace,  and  pleasure  fly ; 

The  sprightly  green 
In  Woodland  walks,  no  more  is  seen  ; 
The  sprightly  green  has  drank  the  Tyrian  dye. 


Sound  the  trumpet,  beat  the  drum, 
Through  all  the  world  around  : 
Sound  a  reveille,  sound,  sound, 
The  warrior  God  is  come. 


Sound  the  trumpet,  beat  the  drum, 
Through  all  the   world  around ; 
Sound  a  reveille,  sound,  sound, 
The  warrior  God  is  come. 


Thy  sword  within  the  scabbard  keep, 

And  let  mankind  agree  ; 
Better  the  world  were  fast  asleep, 

Than  kept  awake  by  thee. 
The  fools  are  only  thinner, 

With  all  our  cost  and  care  ; 
But  neither  side  a  winner, 

For  things  are  as  they  were. 


The  fools  are  only  thinner, 
With  all  our  cost  and  care  ; 

But  neither  side  a  winner, 
For  things  are  as  they  were. 

VENUS. 

Calms  appear,  when  storms  are  past, 
Love  will  have  its  hour  at  last : 
Nature  is  my  kindly  care  ; 
Mars  destroys,  and  I  repair  : 
Take  me,  take  me,  while  you  may, 
Venus  comes  not  ev'ry  day. 


Take  her,  take  her,  while  you  may, 
Venus  comes  not  ev'ry  day. 

CHRONOS. 

The  world  was  then  so  light, 

I  scarcely  felt  the  weight ; 

Joy  rul'd  the  day,  and  love  the  night. 

But  since  the  queen  of  pleasure  left  the  ground, 

I  faint,  I  lag, 

And  feebly  drag 
The  pond'rous  orb  around. 


54  THE  LIFE  OF 


MOMUS,  pointing  to  Diana. 

All,  all,  of  a  piece  throughout ; 
The  chace  had  a  beast  in  view  ; 

DIANA,  to  Mars. 
Thy  wars  brought  nothing  about ; 

MARS,  to  Venus. 
Thy  lovers  were  all  untrue. 

VENUS,  to  Janus. 

'Tis  well  an  old  age  is  out, 
And  time  to  begin  a  new. 

CHORUS. 

All,  all,  of  a  piece  throughout ; 
Thy  chace  had  a  beast  in  view  ; 
Thy  wars  brought  nothing  about ; 
Thy  lovers  were  all  untrue  : 
'Tis  well  an  old  age  is  out, 
And  time  to  begin  a  new. 

In  this  happy  manner  did  we  pass  the  night  in  this  wild  and 
frightful  part  of  the  world,  and  for  three  succeeding  evenings  and 
days,  enjoyed  as  much  true  satisfaction  as  it  was  possible  for 
mortals  to  feel.  PRICE  was  an  ingenious,  cheerful,  entertaining 
man,  and  his  wife  had  not  only  sense  more  than  ordinary,  but 
was  one  of  the  best  of  women.  I  was  prodigiously  pleased  with 
her  conversation.  Though  she  was  no  woman  of  letters,  nor  had 
any  books  in  her  house  except  the  Bible,  Barrow's  and  Whichcot's 
Sermons,  Howell's  History  of  the  World,  and  the  History  of  England 
yet  from  these  few,  a  great  memory,  and  an  extraordinary  con- 
ception of  things,  had  collected  a  valuable  knowledge,  and  she 
talked  with  an  ease  and  perspicuity  that  was  wonderful.  On 
religious  subjects  she  astonished  me. 

As  Sunday  was  one  of  the  daies  I  staid  there,  and  PRICE  was 
obliged  in  the  afternoon  to  be  from  home,  I  passed  it  in  con- 
versation with  his  wife.  The  day  introduced  religion,  and 
among  other  things  I  asked  her,  which  she  thought  the  best 
evidences  of  Christianity  ?  The  prophecies  or  the  miracles  ? 

"  Neither,"  Mrs.  PRICE  replied.  "  The  prophecies  of  the 
Messiah  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament,  are  a  good  proof  of  the 
Christian  religion,  as  it  is  plain  from  many  instances  in  the  New 
Testament,  that  the  Jewish  converts  of  that  generation  under- 
stood them  to  relate  to  our  Lord  ;  which  is  a  sufficient  reason  for 
our  believing  them.  Since  they  knew  the  true  intent  and  mean- 
ing of  them,  and  on  account  of  their  knowing  it,  were  converted  ; 
the  prophecies  for  this  reason  should  by  us  be  regarded  as  divine 
testimony  in  favour  of  Christ  Jesus.  Then  as  to  miracles,  they 
are  to  be  sure  a  means  of  proving  and  spreading  the  Christian 
religion,  as  they  shew  the  divine  mission  of  the  Messiah,  and  rouse 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  55 

the  mind  to  attend  to  the  power  by  which  these  mighty  works 
were  wrought.  Thus  miracle  and  prophecy  shew  the  teacher  came 
from  God.  They  contribute  to  the  establishment  of  his  kingdom, 
and  have  a  tendency  to  produce  that  faith  which  purifies  the  heart, 
and  brings  forth  the  new  birth. 

"  But  the  greater  evidence  for  the  truth  of  our  holy  religion, 
appears  to  me  to  be  that  which  converted  the  primitive  Christians, 
to  wit,  the  powerful  influence  which  the  gospel  has  on  the  minds 
of  those  who  study  it  with  sincerity,  and  the  inward  discoveries 
Christ  makes  to  the  understanding  of  the  faithful  by  his  light 
and  good  spirit.  This  exceeds  the  other  evidences,  if  the  heart 
be  honest.  The  gospel  is  irresistible,  when  the  spirit  of  God 
moves  upon  the  minds  of  Christians.  When  the  divine  power, 
dispensed  through  Christ,  assists  and  strengthens  us  to  do  good, 
and  to  eschew  evil,  then  Christianity  appears  a  religion  worthy 
of  God,  and  in  itself  the  most  reasonable.  The  complete  salva- 
tion deserves  our  ready  acceptation.  That  religion  must  charm 
a  reasonable  world,  which  not  only  restores  the  worship  of  the 
one  true  God,  and  exhibits,  in  a  perfect  plan,  those  rules  of 
moral  rectitude,  whereby  the  conduct  of  men  should  be  governed, 
and  their  future  happiness  secured  ;  but,  by  its  blessed  spirit, 
informs  our  judgments,  influences  our  wills,  rectifies  and  subdues 
our  passions,  turns  the  bias  of  our  minds  from  the  objects  and 
pleasures  of  sense,  and  fixes  them  upon  the  supreme  good.  Most 
glorious  surely  is  such  a  gospel." 

"  But  does  not  this  operation  of  the  spirit,"  said  I,  "  which 
you  make  the  principal  evidence  for  Christianity,  debase  human 
nature,  and  make  man  too  weak,  too  helpless  and  depending 
a  being  ?  If  voluntary  good  agency  depends  on  supernatural 
influence  and  enlivening  aid,  does  not  this  make  us  mere  patients, 
and  if  we  are  not  moral  agents,  that  is,  have  not  a  power  of 
choosing  or  refusing,  of  doing  or  avoiding,  either  good  or  evil,  can 
there  be  any  human  virtue  ?  Can  we  in  such  case  approve 
or  disapprove  ourselves  to  God.  To  me  it  seems  that  man  was 
created  to  perform  things  natural,  rational,  and  spiritual,  and 
has  an  ability  to  act  within  the  reach  of  his  agency,  as  his  duty 
requires.  I  think  the  moral  fitness  of  things  is  a  rule  of  action 
to  conduct  our  actions  by,  and  that  the  great  advantage  of  re- 
velation consists  in  its  heavenly  moral  lessons,  and  the  certainty 
of  that  future  judgment  and  retribution,  which  has  a  powerful 
influence  upon  a  rational  mind,  and  strongly  inclines  a  reasonable 
being  to  save  his  soul,  by  so  acting  in  this  world  as  to  avoid 
everlasting  misery,  and  ensure  the  favor  of  God,  and  eternal 
happiness  in  another  world.  This  appears  to  me  more  con- 
sistent with  the  nature  and  the  truth  of  things.  It  is  more  to 
the  honour  of  human  nature,  if  I  mistake  not,  and  gives  more 
glory  to  God." 


56  THE  LIFE  OF 


To  this  Mrs.  PRICE  answered,  that  "  as  she  was  sensible  of  the 
shortness  of  her  own  understanding,  and  believed  the  faculties 
of  the  human  mind  in  general  were  weak  and  deficient,  she  could 
not  see  any  thing  unreasonable  in  supposing  the  thing  formed 
depended  on,  and  was  subject  to  the  Creator  that  made  it.  It 
cannot  be  absurd,  surely,  to  say,  that  so  weak  and  helpless  a 
being  as  man,  depends  entirely  on  God.  Where  in  the  nature 
of  things  can  we  fix  a  standard  of  certainty  in  understanding, 
and  stability  in  practice,  but  in  the  fountain  of  truth,  and  all 
perfection  ? 

"  But  to  our  better  comprehending  this  matter,  let  us  take 
a  view  of  primitive  Christian  religion.  Christianity  is  a  divine 
institution,  by  which  God  declares  himself  reconciled  to  mankind 
for  the  sake  of  his  beloved  son,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  on  condi- 
tion of  repentance,  amendment  of  life,  and  perseverance  in  a 
state  of  holiness  ;  and  that  we  might  be  able  to  perform  the 
things  required  of  us,  he  offers  the  assistance  of  his  good  spirit. 
This  last  offer  in  a  proper  sense,  is  salvation  ;  '  for  according 
to  his  mercy,  he  saved  us,  by  the  washing  of  regeneration,  and 
the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  By  grace  are  ye  saved  through 
faith,  and  that  not  of  yourselves  ;  it  is  the  gift  of  God.'  We 
find,  then,  that  there  are  two  parts  in  the  Christian  religion  : 
one,  external  and  historical ;  the  other,  internal  and  experi- 
mental. The  first  comprehends  what  is  no  more  to  be  repeated, 
though  the  effects  are  lasting  and  permanent,  to  wit,  the  life 
and  good  works  of  Jesus,  his  miracles,  death,  and  resurrection  ; 
which  declare  him  spotless  virtue,  perfect  obedience,  and  the  Son 
of  God  with  power.  And  in  the  second  part,  we  have  that 
standing  experience  of  a^divine  help,  which  converts  and  supports 
a  spiritual  life.  It  is  true,  both  the  parts  have  a  near  relation,  and 
in  conjunction  produce  the  good  ends  of  religion.  The  second 
is  the  effect  of  the  first.  Redemption  from  the  power  of  sin, 
sanctification,  and  justification,  are  blessings  wrought  in  us  by 
the  good  spirit  of  him,  who  without  us  did  many  glorious  things, 
that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  unto 
himself  a  peculiar  people  zealous  of  good  works  ;  and  that  they 
who  live  should  not  henceforth  live  into  themselves,  but  unto 
him  that  died  for  them,  and  rose  again.  But  it  is  in  the  second 
part  that  the  excellence  of  our  holy  religion  consists.  We  have 
no  ability  of  ourselves  to  take  off  our  minds  from  the  things 
that  are  evil,  and  engage  them  in  the  work  of  religion  and  godli- 
ness. This  is  the  gift  of  God.  It  is  a  continued  miracle  that 
cleanses  that  polluted  fountain,  the  heart,  and  therefore  I  call 
this  experience  the  principal  evidence  of  the  Christian  religion. 
It  is  the  glory  of  Christianity,  and  renders  it  the  perfection  of  all 
religions." 

"That  Christianity/'  I  replied,  "is  the  perfection  of  all  reli- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  57 

gions,  is  granted  ;  but  that  we  have  no  ability  to  save  our  souls 
without  a  supernatural  operation  on  them,  this  is  what  I  have 
still  some  doubt  of.  A  careful  examination  of  the  subject, 
produces  some  hard  objections,  and  therefore,  madam,  I  will  lay 
my  difficulties  before  you,  that  your  fine  natural  understanding 
may  remove  them,  if  it  be  possible.  I  will  be  short  on  the  article, 
for  many  words  would  only  darken  it. 

"  In  the  first  place,  then,  as  to  man's  inability  to  live  a  religious 
life,  and  practice  the  precepts  of  the  gospel,  it  must  be  the  effect 
of  the  human  composition,  or  the  effect  of  the  agency  of  the 
serpent.  If  the  former,  it  is  chargeable  upon  the  author  of  the 
composition  ;  if  the  latter,  upon  the  agent  which  acts  upon  it. 
Man  could  not  be  culpable,  I  think,  for  a  bad  life,  in  either  case. 
If  my  nature  be  weakness  itself,  or  the  serpent  is  superior  to  me, 
what  good  can  be  required  of  me  ?  Can  the  supreme  reason  call 
for  brick,  where  there  are  no  materials  to  make  it  with  ?  will 
you  say  yes,  because  he  gives  supernatural  ability  to  perform  ? 
But  then,  can  this  be  called  man's  action  ?  It  is  the  action  of 
the  author  by  his  miserable  creature,  man  ;  and  in  such  case, 
may  we  not  say,  that  though  commands  are  given  to  man  to  obey 
revealed  laws,  yet  the  obedience  is  performed  by  God  ? 

"  In  the  next  place,  as  man  in  his  natural  capacity,  and  all 
his  natural  powers,  are  the  work  of  God,  and  as  truly  derived 
from  him  as  any  supernatural  powers  can  be,  it  follows,  I  imagine, 
that  a  voluntary  agent's  making  a  right  use  of  the  powers  of  his 
nature,  is  as  valuable  as  his  being  compelled  to  act  well  and 
wisely  by  a  supernatural  power.  To  assert,  then,  such  ex- 
periences or  operations,  to  me  seems  to  misrepresent  the  nature 
of  a  being  excellently  constituted  to  answer  the  good  purposes 
he  was  created  for.  I  am  likewise,  at  present,  of  opinion,  that 
depreciating  our  natural  abilities,  does  not  give  so  much  glory 
to  God  as  you  imagine." 

To  this  Mrs.  PRICE  replied,  "  that  by  the  operation  of  the 
spirit,  she  did  not  mean  that  man  was  purely  passive,  and  had  no 
part  in  the  working  out  his  salvation,  but  that  God  co-operates 
with  man,  and  without  destroying  the  faculty  of  reason,  im- 
proves it  by  convincing  and  enlightening  the  understanding,  and 
by  moving  and  inclining  the  will  towards  such  objects  as  are 
acceptable  to  himself,  and  from  those  that  are  contrary  to  his 
gospel.  The  mind  in  this  manner  enlightened  and  affected, 
begins  to  act,  and  as  the  spirit  moves  upon  the  soul,  the  quickened 
man,  under  the  divine  direction,  does  all  the  good  the  scripture 
commands  him  to  do,  and  eschews  the  evils  he  is  ordered  to 
avoid.  By  God  through  Christ,  he  practices  the  excellent  virtues 
recommended  in  the  holy  books,  and  for  this  reason,  the  righteous- 
ness which  Christians  bring  forth,  is  called  in  scripture  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  the  righteousness  of  God,  and  the  right- 


58  THE  LIFE  OF 


eousness  of  faith.  Christ  is  the  efficient.  We,  through  him,  are 
made  able  to  act.  Notwithstanding  the  weakness  and  in- 
capacity of  our  nature,  yet  through  faith  in  the  power  of  God, 
which  is  given  to  all  who  believe  in  him,  we  are  enabled  to  flee 
immorality  and  vice,  and  by  a  life  of  virtue  and  piety,  to  enjoy 
the  pleasure  of  a  sweet  reflection,  and  the  praises  of  unpolluted 
reason. 

"  That  this  is  the  case  of  man,  the  sacred  writings  declare  in 
a  thousand  places,   and  set  forth  the  exceeding  greatness  of 
God's  power  in  this  respect.     The  ministry  of  the  gospel  appears 
to  have  been  ordained  for  this  end,  and  the  perfection  of  the 
Christian  religion  to  rest  on  this  particular  thing.     '  The  Lord 
died  for  our  sins,  and  rose  again  for  our  justification,  that  we, 
through  the  power  of  his  resurrection,  might  be  made  righteous.' 
And  the  apostle  adds,  '  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
for  it  is  the  power  of  God  unto  salvation,  to  every  one  that  be- 
lie veth,  to  the  Jew  first,  and  also  to  the  Greek,  for  therein  is  the 
righteousness  of  God  revealed  from  faith  to  faith.'     And  that 
the  promise  of  the  Holy  Ghost  had  reference  not  only  to  the 
great  effusion  of  the  spirit  at  Pentecost,  which  was  a  solemn 
confirmation  of  the  new  and  spiritual  dispensation  of  the  gospel  ; 
but  also  to  that  instruction  which  Christians  of  every  age  were 
to  receive  from  it  continually,  if  they  attended  to  it,  is  evident 
from  the  promise  of  Christ,  I  will  pray  the  Father,  and  he  shall 
give  you  another  comforter,  (the  spirit  of  truth)  that  he  may 
abide  with  you  for  ever.'     This  spirit  was  to  supply  the  place 
of  his  personal  presence.     It  was  to  become  a  teacher  and  com- 
forter to  his  disciples  and  followers  to  the  end  of  time,  to  en- 
lighten and  incline  their  minds  to  piety  and  virtue,  to  enable 
them  to  do  all  things  appertaining  to  life  and  to  godliness,  and  to 
have  a  faith  in  God's  power  and  all-sufficiency.     This  is  the 
glorious  specific  difference  of  Christianity  from  all  other  religions. 
We  have  an  inward  instructor  and  supporter  always  abiding  with 
us.     And  what  can  be  a  higher  honor  to  mankind,  or  an  act  of 
greater  love  in  God,  than  for  him  to  interpose  continually,  and 
by  his  holy  spirit  restore  the  teachable  aud  attentive  to  that 
purity   and   uprightness   in    which    he   at   first    created   man  ? 
Glorious  dispensation  !     Here  is  a  complete   reparation   of   the 
loss  sustained  by  transgression.     We  are  created  anew  in  Christ 
Jesus,   and  are  made  partakers  of  the  divine   nature.     Surely 
this  is  the  utmost  that  can  be  expected  from  religion.      In  short, 
continued  Mrs.  Price,  "it  is  to  me  a  most  amazing  thing,  to  see 
men  of  sense  disclaim  this  help,    argue  for  self-sufficiency  and 
independency,  and  receive  only  the  outward  appearance  of  the 
son  of  God,  in  a  literal,  historical,  and  formal  proiession  of  Chris- 
tianity !     This  will  never  do  the  work.    The  outward  appearance 
of  the  Son  of  God  only  puts  us  in  the  capacity  of  salvation ;  it  is 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  59 

the  inward  appearance  by  the  power  and  virtue  of  the  spirit 
that  must  save  us.  The  end  of  the  gospel  is  repentance,  for- 
giveness of  sins,  and  amendment  of  manners  ;  and  the  means 
of  obtaining  that  end,  is  Christianity  in  the  life,  spirit,  and 
power  of  it." 

"  You  talk  extremely  well,  madam,"  said  1,  "  upon  this  sub- 
ject, and  have  almost  made  me  a  convert  to  the  notion  of  an 
inward  appearance  of  the  Son  of  God  ;  but  I  must  beg  leave  to 
observe  to  you,  that  as  to  what  you  have  added,  by  way  of  ex- 
plication and  vindication  of  the  operation  of  the  spirit,  to  wit, 
that  man  has  agency,  and  God  co-operates  with  it,  by  which 
means  the  man  is  enabled  to  apply  his  agency  to  the  performance 
of  good  ;  this  does  not  seem  to  me  to  make  the  matter  quite  plain. 
The  virtue  or  goodness  of  an  agent  must  certainly  arise  from  a 
right  exercise  of  his  own  power,  and  how  then  can  God's  co- 
operating with  him  make  a  better  man  ?  Can  such  co-operation 
add  any  thing  to  my  virtue,  if  my  goodness  is  to  be  rated  in 
proportion  to  the  exertion  of  my  own  will  and  agency  ?  If  I  am 
not  able  to  save  a  man  from  drowning,  though  I  pity  him,  and 
do  my  best  to  preserve  his  life  ;  but  God  gives  me  strength,  or 
co-operates  with  me,  and  so  the  man  is  saved  ;  can  this  add 
any  thing  to  my  virtue  or  goodness  ?  It  would  be  indeed  an 
instance  of  God's  goodness  to  the  man  ;  but  as  to  myself,  I  did 
no  more  with  the  divine  co-operation  than  I  did  without  it. 
I  made  all  the  use  I  could  of  what  power  I  had.  This  seems  to 
me  a  strong  objection  against  the  inward  appearance  :  nor  is  it 
all  there  is  to  object.  If  I  see  a  man  in  a  deep  wet  ditch,  in  a 
dangerous  and  miserable  way,  and  am  prompted  by  a  natural 
affection,  and  the  fitness  of  relieving,  to  exert  a  sufficient  strength 
I  have,  to  take  the  man  out  of  his  distress,  and  put  him  in  a 
comfortable  way,  which  is  a  thing  I  really  did  once,  and  thereby 
saved  a  useful  life  ;  in  this  case  there  was  good  done  by  an  agent, 
without  any  supernatural  co-operation  at  all.  Many  more 
instances  might  be  produced  ;  but  from  what  has  been  said,  is  it 
not  plain  that  much  good  may  be  done  without  any  interposition  ; 
and,  with  it,  that  no  good  can  be  added  to  the  character  of  the 
agent  ? 

"  But  you  will  say,  perhaps,  that  the  good  disposition  of  the 
agent  in  such  cases,  is  supernatural  operation,  and  without  such 
operation,  he  could  not  make  a  right  use  of  his  ability.  To  this 
we  reply,  that  if  by  disposition  is  meant  a  given  power  to  dis- 
tinguish betwixt  motive  and  motive,  and  so  to  judge  of  moral 
fitness  and  unfitness  ;  or,  a  power  to  act  from  right  motives, 
when  such  are  present  to  the  mind  ;  these  cannot  be  given, 
because  they  are  the  powers  which  constitute  a  man  a  moral  agent, 
and  render  him  accountable  for  his  actions.  Without  thenV  he 
could  not  be  a  subject  of  moral  government. 


60  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  And  if  you  mean  by  the  term  disposition,  God's  presenting 
such  motives  to  the  mind,  as  are  necessary  to  excite  to  right 
action  ;  the  answer  is,  that  though  God  may  kindly  interpose, 
and  in  many  instances,  by  supernatural  operation,  present  such 
motives  to  the  mind,  yet  such  operation  cannot  be  always  neces- 
sary, in  order  to  our  doing  good.  In  many  cases  we  see  at  once 
what  good  ought  to  be  done,  and  we  do  it  instantly  of  ourselves 
unless  the  natural  faculties  be  prevented  by  false  principles. 
If  our  fellow-creature  falls  into  the  fire,  or  has  a  fit,  while  we 
are  near  him,  the  fitness  of  relieving  him,  and  the  natural  com- 
passion essential  to  our  constitution,  will  make  us  fly  to  his 
assistance,  without  a  supernatural  operation.  We  want  no 
divine  impulse  to  make  us  interpose.  Without  being  reminded, 
we  will  do  our  best  to  recover  the  man,  if  superstition  or  passion 
hath  not  misled  the  natural  powers  of  the  mind.  In  a  great 
variety  of  things,  the  case  is  the  same,  and  when  at  a  glance  we 
see  the  fitness  of  action,  there  is  an  immediate  production  of 
good. 

"It  is  not  just,  then,  to  assert  that  the  heart  cannot  be  the 
spring  of  good  actions,  without  the  actings  of  God.  It  is  the 
seat  and  source  of  both  evil  and  good.  Man  is  capable  of  giving 
glory  to  God,  and  of  doing  the  contrary.  He  is  constituted  to 
answer  all  the  purposes  of  social  felicity,  and  to  act  a  part  suitable 
to,  and  becoming  that  reason  and  understanding,  which  God 
hath  given  him  to  guide  his  steps  ;  and  he  may,  on  the  contrary, 
by  abusing  his  liberty  act  an  unsocial  part  in  the  creation,  and 
do  great  dishonour  to  his  Maker,  by  the  evil  imaginations  of  his 
heart,  and  the  violence  his  hand  commits.  This  hath  been  the 
state  of  human  nature  from  the  fall  to  the  flood,  and  from  the 
flood  to  our  time.  The  human  race  have  a  natural  ability  for 
good  or  evil,  and  are  at  liberty  for  the  choice  of  either  of  these. 
'  If  thou  doest  well,  Cain,  who  has  power,  and  is  at  liberty  to  do 
evil,  thou  shalt  be  accepted  ;  and  if  thou  doest  not  well,  who 
hast  power,  and  is  at  liberty  to  do  good,  sin  lieth  at  the  door.' 
If  this  had  not  been  the  case  of  Cain,  and  of  others  since  his  days, 
it  seems  to  me,  at  present,  that  God  would  act  an  unequal  part 
with  his  creatures.  Can  happiness  or  misery  be  called  reward  or 
punishment,  unless  the  creature  can  voluntarily  choose  or  avoid 
the  thing  which  renders  him  the  object  of  infliction  or  glory  ? 
I  think  not.  '  For  we  must  all  appear  before  the  judgment  seat  of 
Christ,  that  every  one  may  receive  the  things  done  in  his  body 
according  to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad.'  The 
agency  of  a  serpent  will  be  no  plea  then,  for  a  Cain,  I  suppose  : 
nor  will  Abel's  title  to  an  inheritance  depend  only  on  the  good 
brought  forth  in  him  by  the  Lord.  And  as  to  a  self-sufficiency  or 
independency  in  all  this,  as  often  charged,  I  can  see  none,  for  the 
reason  already  given,  to  wit,  that  my  natural  powers  are  as  much 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  61 

the  gift  of  God  to  me  as  supernatural  powers  can  be,  and  render 
me  as  dependent  a  being.  They  are  derived  from  him.  It  is 
his  given  powers  I  use,  and  if  I  make  a  right  use  of  them,  to  answer 
the  great  and  wise  purpose  I  was  created  for,  the  good  application 
must  be  as  valuable  as  if  I  had  applied  supernatural  powers  to 
the  same  purpose." 

"  What  you  say,  sir,"  answered  Mrs.  PRICE,  "  has  reason  in  it, 
to  be  sure  :  but  it  seems  inconsistent  with  the  language  of  the 
Bible,  and  takes  away  the  grace  of  God  entirely,  and  the  principal 
evidence  of  the  Christian  religion  :  As  to  the  necessary  guilt  of 
mankind,  Moses  says,  '  and  God  saw,  that  the  wickednesses  of  man 
was  great  in  the  earth  ;  and  that  every  imagination  of  the 
thoughts  of  his  heart,  was  only  evil  continually  :  and  it  re- 
pented the  Lord,  that  he  had  made  man  on  the  earth,  &c.'  And 
again  ;  '  The  earth  also  was  corrupt  before  God,  and  the  earth 
was  filled  with  violence  :  and  God  looked  upon  the  earth,  and 
behold  it  was  corrupt,  for  all  flesh  had  corrupted  his  way  on  the 
earth.  And  God  said  unto  Noah,  the  end  of  all  flesh  is  come 
before  me,  for  the  earth  is  filled  with  violence  through  them 
and  behold,  I  will  destroy  them  with  the  earth.  But  Noah 
found  grace  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord.'  The  prophet  Jeremiah 
does  likewise  affirm,  '  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things 
and  desperately  wicked.'  And  St.  Paul  declared  from  Psalm  14 
and  53,  'There  is  none  righteous,  no,  not  one;  there  is  none 
that  understandeth,  there  is  none  that  seeketh  after  God.  They 
are  all  gone  out  of  the  way,  they  are  altogether  become  unprofit- 
able ;  there  is  none  that  doth  good,  no  not  one.  Their  throat 
is  an  open  sepulchre  ;  with  their  tongues  have  they  used  deceit  ; 
the  poison  of  asps  is  under  their  lips  :  whose  mouth  is  full  of 
cursing  and  bitterness.  Their  feet  are  swift  to  shed  blood. 
Destruction  and  misery  are  in  their  ways.  And  the  way 
peace  have  they  not  known.' 

"  Then  as  to  grace,  or  the  operation  of  the  Spirit,  to  cure  this 
miserable  condition  of  mankind,  Peter  said  unto  them,  '  Repent, 
and  be  baptized  every  one  of  you,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  ye  shall  receive  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  for  the  promise  is  unto  you  and  your  children,  and  to 
all  that  are  afar  off.'  This  is  a  very  extensive  declaration  both 
as  to  time  and  place.  After  Peter  had  told  the  people,  '  the 
God  of  our  fathers  raised  up  Jesus  whom  ye  slew,  and  hanged 
on  a  tree,  him  hath  God  exalted  with  his  right  hand,  to  be  a 
prince  and  a  saviour,  for  to  give  repentance  unto  Israel,  and 
forgiveness  of  sins,  and  we  are  his  witnesses  of  these  things, 
and  so  also  is  the  Holy  Ghost,  whom  God  hath  given  to  them 
that  obey  him,'  the  apostle  adds,  then  they  (the  Gentiles)  were 
filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost.'  All  who  obeyed,  without  distinction, 
had  the  Holy  Ghost  given  them,  and  it  was  a  witness  to  them  of 


62  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  truth  of  Christ's  divine  mission,  and  the  good  effects  of  it, 
according  to  the  promise  of  the  Lord,  to  wit,  '  he  shall  testify 
of  me.' 

"  St.  Paul  likewise  tells  us,  '  if  any  man  have  not  the  spirit 
of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  his.  And  if  Christ  be  in  you,  the  body 
is  dead  because  of  sin,  but  the  spirit  is  life,  because  of  righteous- 
ness ;  but  if  the  spirit  of  him  that  raised  up  Jesus  from  the  dead, 
dwell  in  you,  he  that  raised  up  Christ  from  the  dead,  shall  also 
quicken  your  mortal  bodies  by  his  spirit  that  dwelleth  in  you. 
Therefore  brethren,  we  are  debtors,  not  to  the  flesh  to  live  after 
the  flesh,  for  if  ye  live  after  the  flesh  ye  shall  die  ;  but  if  ye 
through  the  spirit  do  mortify  the  deeds  of  the  body,  ye  shall 
live.  For  as  many  as  are  led  by  the  spirit  of  God,  they  are  the 
sons  of  God.  For  ye  have  not  received  the  spirit  of  bondage 
again  to  fear,  but  ye  have  received  the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby 
we  cry  Abba  Father,  the  spirit  itself  beareth  witness  with  our 
spirit,  that  we  are  the  children  of  God.'  Here  we  see  the  neces- 
sity of  having  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  that  those  who  have  it  not, 
do  not  belong  to  him.  They  are  none  of  his.  We  may  likewise 
observe,  that  it  mortifies  the  deeds  of  the  body,  and  quickens 
the  soul  to  a  life  of  holiness  ;  the  passage  likewise  shews,  that 
the  spirit  bears  witness  with  our  spirits,  and  by  an  evidence 
peculiar  to  itself,  gives  us  a  certain  sense,  or  understanding  of  it. 

"  In  short,  sir,  a  great  number  of  texts  might  be  produced 
to  show  not  only  the  work  and  effect  of  the  divine  spirit  upon 
our  minds  ;  but  that,  it  is  an  evidence,  the  principal  evidence 
and  ground  of  certainty  to  believers,  respecting  the  truth  of 
Christianity.  I  will  mention  however  only  two  or  three  more, 
and  then  shall  be  glad  to  hear  what  you  say  to  those  things. 

"  '  What  man  knoweth  the  spirit  of  man,  save  the  spirit  of 
man  which  is  in  him  ?  even  so  the  things  of  God  knoweth  no 
man,  but  the  spirit  of  God.  Now  we  have  received  not  the  spirit 
of  the  world,  but  the  spirit  which  is  of  God,  that  we  might  know 
the  things  which  are  freely  given  to  us  of  God.  Ye  have  an 
unction  from  the  Holy  one,  and  ye  know  all  things.  These  things 
I  have  written  to  you,  concerning  them  that  seduce  you  ;  but 
the  anointing  which  ye  have  received  of  him,  abideth  in  you,  and 
ye  need  not  that  any  teach  you,  but  as  the  same  anointing 
teacheth  you  of  all  things,  and  is  truth,  and  is  no  lie,  and  even 
as  it  hath  taught  you,  ye  shall  abide  in  it.  Hereby  we  know  that 
he  abideth  in  us  by  his  spirit,  which  he  hath  given  us.  Hereby 
we  know  that  we  dwell  in  him,  and  he  in  us,  because  he  hath 
given  us  of  his  spirit." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  all  this  ?  do  not  the  sacred  passages 
I  have  repeated  seem  to  declare  in  the  plainest  manner  the 
necessary  iniquity  of  man  ;  that  this  is  to  be  cured  only,  and  his 
nature  rectified  by  the  operation  of  the  divine  spirit ;  and  that 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  63 

the  effusion  of  the  spirit,  both  as  to  instruction  and  evidence, 
was  not  peculiar  to  the  infancy  of  Christianity  ?  This  appears 
to  my  understanding.  The  very  essence  of  the  Christian  religion 
I  think  from  these  scriptures  consists  in  the  power  and  efficacy  of 
the  spiritual  principle." 

"  What  you  have  said,  madam,"  I  replied,  "  seems  strong 
indeed  in  defence  of  the  weakness  of  man,  and  the  operation  of 
the  spirit,  and  I  should  be  of  your  way  of  thinking  as  to  the 
manifestation  of  it,  but  that  1  imagine  the  thing  may  be  ex- 
plained in  a  different  manner.  Let  us  review  our  religion,  if  you 
please,  and  perhaps  we  may  find,  that  another  account  may 
be  given  of  sanctification,  and  the  renewing  the  mind  into  a  state 
of  holiness. 

"  When  God  called  this  world  into  being,  his  purpose  was 
existence.  This  I  think  was  the  case.  True  religion  was  to 
form  and  fix  every  good  principle  in  the  human  mind,  produce 
all  righteousness  in  the  conversation,  and  thereby  render  man- 
kind the  blessed  of  the  universal  Father.  They  were  to  worship 
the  one  true  God  ;  the  possessor  of  all  being,  and  the  fountain  of 
all  good  :  to  believe  on  him,  and  have  their  trust  and  depend- 
ence always  on  him  ;  to  be  pure  and  peaceable,  gentle  and  full 
of  mercy,  without  partiality,  without  hypocrisy,  and  so  devoted 
to  holiness  and  obedience,  to  every  virtue  and  every  good  work 
which  the  law  of  reason  can  require  from  men  ;  that  after  a 
long  life  spent  in  acting  a  part  the  most  honourable  to  God,  and 
the  most  advantageous  to  mankind,  in  obeying  the  dictates  of 
reason,  and  thereby  imitating  the  example  of  God  ;  they  might 
be  translated  to  the  regions  of  immortality,  where  the  first  and 
great  Original  displays  as  it  were  face  to  face  the  perfections  of 
the  Deity,  and  from  an  all-perfect  and  holy  being  receive  the 
vast  rewards  he  has  prepared  for  those,  who,  in  this  first  state, 
have  been  to  all  the  purposes  of  life  and  religion,  perfect  as  he  is 
perfect.  For  these  reasons  did  the  supreme  director,  the  greatest 
and  the  best  Being  in  the  universe,  command  the  human  race 
into  existence.  He  gave  them  faculties  to  conduct  them  here 
through  various  scenes  of  happiness  to  the  realms  of  immortality 
and  immutable  felicity.  It  was  a  Godlike  design  ! 

"  But  it  was  not  very  long  before  this  human  race  became 
corrupt,  and  not  only  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  but  ceased 
to  apprehend  the  first  cause  as  one  most  perfect  mind.  The 
natural  notions  of  moral  perfection  which  reason  and  the  light 
of  nature  supply,  they  no  longer  minded,  nor  thought  of  what 
is  fit  and  reasonable  to  be  done  in  every  case.  The  passions 
began  to  influence  and  direct  their  lives  :  just  and  pure  ideas 
of  the  Deity  were  lost,  false  ones  took  place,  and  the  mischief  and 
its  fatal  consequences  became  very  great.  It  was  a  melancholy 
scene  !  The  exalted  notions  of  one  glorious  God,  and  of  that 


64  THE  LIFE  OF 


true  religion  which  subsists  in  the  expectation  of  a  future  state, 
were  no  longer  known,  nor  did  the  race  ever  think  of  approving 
themselves  in  the  eye  of  an  all  perfect  and  holy  being,  Supersti- 
tion and  iniquity  prevailed,  and  the  spread  of  evil  was  wide. 

"  God  saw  that  the  wickedness  of  man  was  great  in  the  earth," 
the  thoughts  of  his  heart  evil  continually,  &c.  as  you  have  before 
quoted  from  the  book  of  Genesis  and  because  the  wickedness  of 
the  tenth  generation  was  so  great,  and  men  no  longer  endeavoured 
after  those  perfections,  which  are  natural  and  proper  to  rational 
minds  ;  no  longer  thought  of  conforming  themselves  to  the 
divine  nature,  or  strove  to  imitate  the  excellencies  of  it,  though 
constituted  to  give  glory  to  their  Maker,  and  endued  with  a 
reason  and  understanding  sufficient  to  teach  them  the  rule  of 
duty,  and  guide  their  steps  in  the  ways  of  true  religion  ;  but 
against  the  light  of  their  own  minds,  acted  the  most  impious 
and  unsociable  part  :  therefore  God  repented  that  he  had  made 
them,  that  is,  he  did  what  is  the  product  of  repentance  in  men, 
when  they  undo,  as  far  as  it  is  in  their  power  what  they  repent 
of,  and  destroyed  his  own  work  by  that  desolating  judgment,  the 
flood.  This  seems  to  be  the  truth  of  the  case.  The  words  of 
Moses  do  not  mean  the  state  of  human  nature  on  account  of  the 
fall.  They  express  only  the  wickedness  of  the  tenth  generation 
as  a  reason  for  the  deluge  at  that  time.  There  is  not  the  least 
ground  for  asserting  from  this  passage  in  the  sacred  historian, 
that  man  was  unable  to  do  good  by  his  natural  powers,  and  that 
his  crimes  arose  from  resisting  the  actings  of  God  upon  his  mind. 
The  impiety  of  this  generation  was  a  mere  abuse  of  free  will,  and 
acting  against  the  plain  dictates  of  their  own  minds  ;  therefore, 
when  wilful  oppression  and  sensuality  filled  the  earth,  God 
destroyed  the  world  by  an  inundation.  Noah  only,  who  was 
a  just  man,  and  perfect  in  his  generation,  with  his  family  escaped. 
"  This  terrible  execution  of  an  awful  vengeance  on  the  guilty 
race,  demonstrated  to  the  survivors,  and  to  all  ages  to  come,  the 
great  malignity  of  sin,  and  the  uncontrollable  supremacy  of  the 
divine  government.  As  the  venerable  patriarch  and  his  family 
sailed  over  the  bosom  of  the  boundless  ocean  of  waters,  and  above 
the  wrecks  and  ruins  of  this  terrestrial  world,  they  adored  with 
grateful  hearts,  the  Almighty  Father  of  virtue  and  goodness,  who 
had  so  wonderfully  preserved  them,  and  were  convinced  by  the 
amazing,  striking  evidence,  that  sin  is  the  greatest  infamy  and 
degradation  of  our  reason  and  nature  ;  that  it  has  an  insuperable 
repugnancy  and  irreversible  contrariety,  to  our  true  happiness, 
and  is  infamous,  pernicious,  and  ruinous,  by  the  sentence  of  the 
Almighty.  The  dreadful  event  unanswerably  evinced  his  constant 
actual  cognizance  of  enormous  faith  and  manners,  and  his  un- 
changeable displeasure  with  them.  This  truth,  which  was  learn' d 
at  first,  by  the  expulsion  from  Paradise,  and  the  sad  inheritance 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  65 

of  mortality,  they  saw  again  republished  in  the  most  awful  manner- 
This  gave  undoubtedly  a  very  religious  turn  to  their  minds,  and 
they  determined  to  adhere  to  those  excellent  principles  and  prac- 
tices, which  had  been,  through  God's  goodness,  their  security  in 
the  general  desolation,  and  to  flee  the  contrary  malignant  ones 
which  had  procured  that  desolation  on  the  rest.  In  a  degree 
suitable  to  their  nature  and  ability,  they  resolved  to  imitate  the 
perfections  of  God,  and  to  employ  the  powers  and  faculties  of 
reason  in  endeavouring  to  be  just,  and  righteous,  and  merciful. 
And  as  the  amazing  operation  of  God  in  the  deluge  called  for  their 
wonder  and  praise,  we  must  think  their  hearts  glowed  with  the 
sense  of  his  goodness  to  them,  and  that  they  extolled  his  mercy 
and  power  in  the  salvation  they  had  received.  So  we  are  told 
by  an  inspired  writer.  Noah  restored  the  antient  rites  of  divine 
service,  and  built  an  altar  to  the  Lord,  '  And  the  Lord  smelled 
a  sweet  savour,  and  said,  never  any  more  will  I  curse  the  ground 
for  man's  sake,  though  the  imagination  of  man's  heart  is  evil 
from  his  youth  ;  '  because  he  will  not  hearken  to  the  voice  of 
reason,  and  with  the  greatest  ardour  and  contention  of  mind, 
labour  to  attain  a  conformity  to  the  divine  nature  in  the  moral 
perfections  of  it  which  is  the  true  dignity  of  man,  and  the  utmost 
excellence  of  human  souls.  '  Neither  will  I  again  smite  any  more 
every  living  creature  as  I  have  done.  While  the  earth  remaineth, 
seed  time  and  harvest,  and  cold  and  heat,and  summer  and  winter, 
and  day  and  night  shall  not  cease.' 

"  Thus  did  God  enter  into  a  covenant  with  Noah,  and  his  sons, 
and  their  seed  ;  and  as  the  late  amazing  occurrences  must  incline 
the  spectators  of  the  flood  to  piety  and  goodness  ;  and  the  fathers 
of  the  post-diluvian  world  were  careful  to  instruct  their  children 
in  the  several  parts  of  the  stupendous  fact,  and  from  the  whole 
inculcate  the  being  and  perfections  of  God,  his  universal  dominion 
and  actual  providence  and  government  over  all  things,  his  love 
of  virtue  and  goodness  and  infinite  detestation  of  all  sin  ;  to  which 
we  may  add,  that  the  imitation  of  God  is  not  a  new  principle 
introduced  into  religion  by  revelation,  but  has  its  foundation  in 
the  reason  and  nature  of  things  ;  we  may  from  hence  conclude 
that  the  rising  generation  were  persons  of  conspicuous  devotion, 
and  followed  after  the  moral  virtues,  the  holiness,  justice  and 
mercy  which  the  light  of  nature  discovers.  They  were,  I  believe, 
most  excellent  mortals  for  some  time.  They  obeyed  to  be  sure 
every  dictate  of  reason,  and  adored  and  praised  the  invisible 
Deity  j  the  supreme  immutable  mind. 

"  But  this  beautiful  scene  had  an  end,  and  man  once  more  for- 
got his  Maker  and  himself.  He  prostituted  the  honour  of  both, 
by  robbing  God  of  the  obedience  due  to  him,  and  by  submitting 
himself  a  slave  to  the  elements  of  the  world.  When  he  looked  up 
to  the  heavens,  and  saw  the  glory  of  the  sun  and  stars,  instead  of 

D 


66  THE  LIFE  OF 


praising  the  Lord  of  all,  he  foolishly  said,  these  are  thy  gods,  O 
Man  !  An  universal  apostacy  from  the  primitive  religion  pre- 
vailed. They  began  with  the  heavenly  bodies,  or  sydereal  gods, 
and  proceeded  to  heroes,  brutes,  and  images,  till  the  world  was 
overflowed  with  an  inundation  of  idolatory,  and  superstition  ; 
even  such  superstition,  as  nourished  under  the  notion  of  religion, 
and  pleasing  the  gods,  the  most  bestial  impurities,  the  most  in- 
human and  unnatural  cruelties,  and  the  most  unmanly  and  con- 
temptible follies.  Moral  virtue  and  goodness  were  totally  extin- 
guished. When  men  had  lost  the  sense  of  the  supreme  Being, 
the  Creator,  Governor,  and  Judge  of  the  world,  they  not  only 
ceased  to  be  righteous  and  holy,  but  became  necessarily  vicious 
and  corrupt  in  practice  ;  for  iniquity  flows  from  corrupt  religion, 
as  the  waters  from  the  spring.  The  principles  and  ceremonies  of 
the  established  idolatries  gave  additional  strength  to  men's 
natural  inclinations,  to  intemperance,  lust,  fraud,  violence,  and 
every  kind  of  unrighteousness  and  debauchery.  Long  before  the 
days  of  Moses  this  was  the  general  case.  Idolatry  had  violated 
all  the  duties  of  true  religion,  and  the  most  abominable  practices 
by  constitution  were  authorized.  The  Phalli*  and  the  Mylli,t 
rites  that  modesty  forbids  to  explain,  were  esteemed  principal 
parts  of  their  ritual  ;  virgins  before  marriage  were  to  sacrifice 
their  chastity  to  the  honour  of  Venus  ;J  men  were  offered  upon 
the  altars  for  sacrifices  ;  and  children  were  burned  alive  to  Moloch 
and  Adramalech.  In  a  word,  the  most  abominable  immoralities 

*  "  Ex  ea  re  turn  privatim  turn  publice  lignea  virilia  thyrsis  alligates  per  earn  solennitatem 
gestabant :  fuit  enim  Phallus  vocatum  membrum  virile."  Schaedius  de  Diis  Germanis, 
edidit  Keyslero,  1728,  8vo.  p.  130. 

t  "  Heraclides  Syracusius  libro  de  vetustis  et  sancitis  moribus  scribit  apud  Syracusios 
in  perfectis  thermophoriis,  ex  sesamo  et  melle  fingi  pudenda  muliebria,  quae  per  ludos  et 
spectacula  circumferebantur,  et  vocabantur  Mytti." — Athenaei  Deiptws,  1.  14.  p.  647. 

J  This  is  taken  notice  of  by  the  prophet  Jeremiah.  "  The  women  also  with  cords  about 
them,  sitting  in  the  ways,  burn  bran  for  perfume  ;  but  if  any  of  them,  drawn  by  some  that 
passeth  by,  lie  with  her,  she  reproacheth  her  fellow,  that  she  was  not  thought  as  worthy  as 
herself,  nor  her  cord  broken." — Baruch,  ch.  6.  v.  43. 

Herodotus,  who  lived  almost  two  centuries  after,  in  explanation  of  this  passage  of  the 
prophet  Baruch,  tells  us,  "  Every  woman  at  Babylon,  was  obliged,  once  in  her  life,  to  sit 
down  openly  in  the  temple  of  Venus,  in  order  to  prostitute  herself  to  some  stranger :  They 
enter  into  the  temple,  and  sit  down  crowded  with  garlands,  some  continually  going  out,  and 
others  coming  in :  The  galleries  where  they  sit  are  built  in  a  straight  line,  and  open  on  every 
side,  that  all  strangers  may  have  a  free  passage  to  choose  such  woman  as  they  like  best.  Those 
women  who  excel  in  beauty  and  shape  are  soon  dismissed  :  but  the  deformed  are  sometimes 
necessitated  to  wait  three  or  four  years,  before  they  can  satisfy  the  law.  The  men  declared 
their  choice  by  throwing  money  into  the  lap  of  the  woman  they  most  admired,  which  she  was 
by  no  means  to  refuse,  but  instantly  retire  with  the  man  that  accosted  her,  and  fulfil  the  law. 
Women  of  rank,  for  none  were  dispensed  with,  might  sit  in  covered  chariots  for  the  purpose 
whilst  their  servants  waited  at  a  distance  till  they  had  done."  See  Herodotus,  translated 
by  Isaac  Littlebury,  1709,  8vo.  vol.  i.  p.  125' 

Strabo  also  furnishes  an  account  to  the  same  purpose,  lib.  16.  p.  745  ;  and  Justn  observes, 
the  reason  for  this  custom,  was  ne  sola  impudria  videretur,  i.e.  lest  Venus  alone  should  appear 
lascivious. — Lib.  18.  cap.  5. 

As  to  the  breaking  of  the  woman's  cord,  Dr.  Hyde  says,  their  lower  garments  were  tied 
with  small  and  weak  cords  made  of  rushes,  "  qui  ad  congrediendum  erant  frangendi." 
Purchas  confirms  this  notion ;  having  seen  the  thing  practised  in  his  travels  in  the  east, 
Pilgr.  book  i.  ch.  12.  p.  65.  But  Grotius  on  Baruch  says,  the  meaning  was,  the  women 
had  cords  given  them,  as  a  token  that  they  were  under  the  vow  of  prostitution,  which  when 
they  had  performed,  the  cord  was  properly  said  to  be  broken ;  for  every  vow  may  be  called 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  67 


universally  prevailed ;  with  the  encouragements  of  religion,  men 
were  led  into  intemperance,  uncleanness,  murders,  and  many 
vices,  inconsistent  with  the  prosperity  and  peace  of  society,  as 
well  as  with  the  happiness  of  private  persons  ;  and  that  such 
iniquities  might  have  a  perpetual  source,  the  most  shameful 
idolatries  were  preserved  in  opposition  to  the  knowledge  and 
worship  of  the  one  true  God.  So  general  was  this  corruption 
and  idolatry,  that  the  infection  seized  the  descendants  of  Shem, 
the  pious  race.  Even  Terah,  the  father  of  Abram,  we  find  charged 
with  it.  And  Abram  himself  was  culpable  I  think  in  this  respect, 
as  the  word  Asebes  imports.  It  is  rendered  in  our  Bible  ungodly, 
but  it  signifies  more  properly  idolatry,  and  that  is  what  St.  Paul 
in  the  4th  chapter  to  the  Romans  hints.  The  apostle  speaking 
of  Abraham,  says,  but  to  him  that  worketh  not,  but  believeth 
in  him  that  justifieth  the  ungodly,  that  is,  an  ungodly  idolator, 
who  has  no  manner  of  claim  to  the  blessings  of  God,  he  must  be 
justified  upon  the  foot,  not  of  his  own  prior  obedience,  but  of  God's 
mercy. 

"  In  such  a  calamitous  state,  a  revelation  to  restore  the  law  of 
nature,  and  make  it  more  fully  and  clearly  known,  to  enforce  its 
observance,  to  afford  helps  and  motives  to  the  better  performance 
of  what  it  enjoins,  and  relieve  the  guilty  mind  against  all  its 
doubts,  would  certainly  be  a  merciful  vouchsafement  from  God 
to  mankind,  and  be  much  for  their  advantage  and  happiness  ; 
and  therefore,  in  the  428th  year  from  the  flood,  to  provide  for 
the  restoration  of  the  true  religion,  and  preserve  the  knowledge 
and  worship  of  the  one  true  God  on  earth,  in  opposition  to  the 
prevailing  idolatry,  and  the  gross  immoralities  that  were  the 
effects  of  idolatrous  principles  and  practices,  Jehovah  commanded 
Abraham  to  leave  his  country,  his  kindred,  and  his  father's  house, 
and  proceed  with  his  family  to  the  land  of  Canaan.  Here  God 
entered  into  covenants  with  Abraham  and  his  posterity,*  to  be 

vinculum,  or  a  cord.  As  I  take  it,  the  case  was  both  as  Hyde  and  Grotius  relate  it.  I  was 
iu  company  with  a  physician,  who  had  spent  many  years  of  his  life  in  the  East,  and  he  assured 
me,  he  had  seen  both  circumstances  practised  in  the  kingdom  of  Cranganor. 

As  to  the  woman's  burning  incense  or  bran  for  a  perfume,  it  was  the  custom  before  coition 
by  way  of  charm  and  incentive.  When  a  Babylonian  and  his  wife  had  a  mind  to  correspond, 
they  always  first  lit  up  the  fuming  pan,  imagining  it  improved  the  passion.  So  in  the  Phar- 
maceutria  of  Theocritus,  p.  33.  we  see  Sirnsetha  is  using  her  incantation,  "  mine  furfures 
sacrificabo,"  TltTvpov,  the  word  made  use  of  in  Jeremiah's  Epistle.  And  as  if  all  this  had  not 
been  lust  enough  in  their  religion,  it  was  farther  declared  in  their  ritual,  that  those  were  best 
qualified  for  the  sacerdotal  function,  who  were  born  of  mothers  who  conceived  them  of  their 
own  sons. 

In  respect  of  human  sacrifices,  if  you  wrould  have  a  full  account  of  them,  consult  the  fol- 
lowing authors,  and  you  will  find  that  the  Canaanites  were  far  from  being  the  only  Pagans 
who  were  guilty  of  this  unnatural  barbarity.  Selden  de  Diis  Syris.  Segort.  i.  c.  6.  and  all 
the  authors  he  quotes.  Grotius  on  Deut.  18.  Isaac  Vossius  de  Orig.  Idol.  i.  2.  c.  5.  Dion 
Vossius  on  Maimon.  de  Idol.  c.  6'  Lud.  Vives  Notes  on  St.  Aug.  de  Civit.  Dei.  1.  7.  c.  19. 
Ouzelius  et  Elmenhprstius  Notes  on  Min.  Fcelix.  Spenceri  de  Legibus  Hebrceorum.  1.  2.  c.  13. 
And  Fabricius  Bibliographia.  c.  9. 

*  Bishop  Sherlock  well  observes,  that  "  two  covenants  were  given  to  Abraham,  one  a  tem- 
poral covenant,  to  take  place  in  the  land  of  Canaan — the  other,  a  covenant  of  better  hope  , 
to  be  performed  in  a  better  country."— Discourse  on  Prophecy,  p.  134. 


68  THE  LIFE  OF 


instruments  in  the  hands  of  Providence  for  bringing  about  great 
designs  in  the  world,  that  he  and  his  posterity  were  to  be  the 
church  of  God,  and  depositaries  of  a  hope,  that  the  covenant 
limited  to  Abraham  and  his  chosen  seed,  was  to  grow  in  the  fulness 
of  time  into  a  blessing  upon  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Abra- 
ham was  at  this  time  seventy-five  years  old,  and  God  added  to 
the  patriarchal  worship  the  visible  mark  of  circumcision,  as  a 
seal  of  a  covenant  between  himself  and  Abraham. 

"  Yet  how  fit  soever  such  a  visible  mark  might  be,  to  keep  in 
remembrance  the  covenant  between  God  and  the  family  of  Abra- 
ham, it  was  found  in  experience,  insufficient  to  preserve  them 
from  the  idolatrous  customs  of  their  neighbours.  Some  new 
laws,  some  further  constitutions  of  worship  were  to  be  added,  or, 
as  the  family  of  Abraham  were  situated  in  the  midst  of  idolaters 
and  unrighteous  ones,  it  was  foreseen  they  would  soon  fall  from 
the  essentials  of  religion  ;  and  instead  of  preserving  a  right  know- 
ledge of  God,  of  his  being,  perfections  and  government,  a  just 
sense  of  the  reverence  all  men  owe  to  him,  from  a  firm  belief  ot 
his  being,  power,  dominion,  justice,  and  goodness,  and  an  hearty 
concern  to  obey  the  known  will  of  God  in  all  things  ;  doing  what 
is  pleasing  in  his  sight,  seeking,  and  hoping  their  perfection  and 
happiness,  in  the  likeness,  and  in  the  image  of  God  ;  they  would, 
on  the  contrary,  serve  other  Gods,  and  make  their  idolatry,  not  a 
matter  of  harmless  speculation,  but  a  fountain  of  the  most  danger- 
ous immoralities  ;  and  therefore,  as  it  was  highly  fit  in  itself,  and 
well  becoming  the  wisdom  of  God,  he  gave  Moses  a  Christianity 
in  hieroglyphics,  that  is,  a  tabernacle,  a  shechinah,  a  priesthood, 
an  altar,  sacrifices,  laws  moral,  and  ceremonial,  with  every  con- 
stituent part  of  the  Hebrew  ritual  ;  being  figures  of  a  better  she- 
chinah, temple,  priest,  altar,  sacrifice,  revelation,  and  blessings — 
figurative  representations  of  the  more  perfect  constitutions  in 
the  days  of  Messiah  the  King.  This  was  in  the  year  875  after 
the  flood,  and  in  1491  before  Christ.  By  a  ritual  so  becoming 
the  wisdom  of  God,  given  for  a  preservative  against  idolatrous 
principles,  and  as  a  dispensation  preparatory  to  that  future 
heavenly  religion,  the  Hebrew  nation  were  guarded  against  the 
surrounding  corruptions  of  the  world,  and  raised  up  the  defenders 
of  true  religion,  to  preserve  the  knowledge  and  worship  of  the 
one  true  God. 

"  But  as  mankind  would  not  follow  the  light  of  nature,  which 
is  sufficient,  when  attended  to  for  a  constant  universal  practice 
of  piety  and  morality  ;  so  neither  would  they  be  engaged  by 
various  revealed  laws,  from  time  to  time  given,  and  by  the  calls 
and  lessons  of  many  prophets,  to  the  practice  of  true  religion  and 
righteousness  ;  but  as  the  heart  is  the  seat  and  source  of  wicked- 
ness in  man,  according  to  the  prophet  Jeremiah,  so  even  the  hearts 
of  the  Jews  became  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  69 

wicked.  And  the  prophet  goes  on  to  shew,  not  the  necessary 
inability  of  man  without  experiences,  or  an  operating  spirit  with- 
in, as  you  suppose,  madam ;  but  that,  though  men  thus  wickedly 
deceive  one  another,  yet  they  cannot  possibly  by  such  a  wilful 
desperate  piece  of  wickedness  deceive  their  Maker,  because  to 
him  the  most  secret  recesses  of  their  hearts  lie  open  ;  and,  conse- 
quently, in  the  issue,  they  deceive  themselves,  seeing  God,  who 
knows  the  deceit  which  is  lodged  in  their  hearts,  will  render  unto 
them  according  to  their  works,  and  according  to  the  fruit  of  their 
doings  :  so  that  their  hope  and  expectation  will  be  disappointed, 
even  as  a  partridge  is  disappointed  that  sitteth  on  eggs,  and 
hatcheth  them  not. 

"  And  as  St.  Paul  says  from  the  fourteenth  and  fifty- third 
Psalm,  there  was  none  righteous,  no  not  one  ;  there  is  none  that 
understandeth,  there  is  none  that  seeketh  after  God  ;  and  so  on, 
as  you,  madam,  have  quoted  the  verses,  in  which  the  apostle  did 
not  intend  to  shew  the  necessary  pollution  of  man  without  the 
help  of  grace  ;  but  the  groundlessness  of  that  opinion  which  the 
Jews  had  gone  into,  that  they  were  the  only  people  which  pleased 
God  ;  for  they  were  as  guilty  as  the  Gentiles  were  in  transgressing 
the  law  of  nature.  Neither  of  them  had  any  legal  title  to  justifi- 
cation. They  were  all  very  great  transgressors.  The  throat  of 
Jew  and  Gentile  an  open  sepulchre  :  their  tongues,  deceit :  the 
poison  of  asps  under  their  lips  :  their  mouths,  full  of  cursing  and 
bitterness  :  their  feet  swift  to  shed  blood.  Destruction  and  misery 
in  their  ways  :  and  the  way  of  peace  have  they  not  known  :  There- 
fore the  justification  of  the  Jew  as  well  as  the  Gentile  must  be  of 
grace,  and  not  of  debt. 

"  In  this  was  manifested  the  inestimable  love  of  God  in  the 
redemption  of  the  world  by  Jesus  Christ.  Though  Jew  and  Gen- 
tile were  qualified  to  discern  and  do  both  good  and  evil,  and  the 
Jew  had  a  written  law  as  a  further  assistance,  but  nevertheless 
they  violated  the  plain  dictates  of  natural  reason,  and  the  divine 
precepts  of  the  law,  and  by  unrighteousness  and  impurity,  ren- 
dered themselves  objects  of  judgment  and  condemnation  ;  yet 
the  Father  of  the  universe,  in  compassion  to  mankind,  sent  a 
divine  teacher  from  heaven,  Christ,  the  true  prophet  that  was  to 
come  into  the  world,  and  by  his  divinely  revealed  testimony  and 
authority,  attempts  to  abolish  the  superstition  of  men,  reclaim 
their  wickedness,  and  bring  them  back  to  the  true  sp  ritual  wor- 
ship of  God,  and  to  that  holiness  of  life  and  manners  which  is 
agreeable  to  the  uncorrupted  light  and  dictates  of  nature.  This 
was  love.  The  blessed  God,  in  compassion  to  human  ignorance 
and  wickedness,  contracted  by  men's  own  fault,  gives  them  an 
express  revelation  of  his  will,  and  re-establishes  the  rule  of  pure 
uncorrupt  religion  and  morality.  He  declares  those  terms  of 
sinful  man's  reconcilement  to  him  which  he  was  pleased  to  accept, 


70  THE  LIFE  OF 


Grace  is  manifested  in  the  gospel  to  turn  men  from  their  vanities, 
or  idol  service,  unto  the  living  God,  who  made  heaven  and  earth, 
and  by  the  doctrine  and  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  redeem  us 
from  all  iniquity,  and  purify  to  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous 
of  good  works  : — That  denying  all  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts, 
we  should  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  this  present 
world,  looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  glorious  appearance 
of  the  great  God  ;  who  will  judge  the  world  by  that  divine  person, 
and  great  temporary  minister,  whom  he  sent  before  to  destroy  sin, 
and  the  kingdom  of  Satan  ;  and  to  bring  mankind  into  a  perfect 
obedience  to  the  will  of  the  supreme  Being.  This  renders  Chris- 
tianity a  heavenly  thing.  Revelation  thus  explained  is  beautiful 
and  useful  to  an  extreme  degree.  It  does  not  contradict  but 
strengthens  the  obligations  of  natural  religion." 

"  Your  account,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  PRICE,  "  of  man  and  religion 
is  different  indeed  from  mine,  and  I  must  allow  your  explications 
have  reason  in  them  :  but  still  they  do  not  satisfy  me,  nor  can  I 
part  with  my  own  opinion.  Two  things  in  particular  to  me 
appear  very  strange  in  your  scheme.  It  seems  to  take  away  the 
necessity  of  the  Christian  revelation,  if  natural  religion,  duly 
attended  to,  was  perfect,  and  sufficient  for  virtue  and  holiness, 
and  thereby  to  gain  the  favour  of  God.  If  reason  alone  can  do 
the  work,  if  men  please,  then  what  need  of  the  gospel  ?  If  men 
will  consider,  and  without  consideration,  no  scheme  can  be  of 
service  ;  they  may  as  well  turn  their  thoughts  to  the  law  of  nature 
as  to  the  law  of  grace,  if  there  is  no  difference  betwixt  the  rule  of 
nature  and  the  law  of  Christ,  with  regard  to  the  knowledge  of  God, 
the  maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  and  the  worship  due  to  him  on 
that  account,  and  the  practice  of  virtue  and  morality. 

"  In  the  next  place,  if  I  understand  you  right,  the  grace  of  God 
is  of  no  use  at  all  in  religion,  as  you  account  for  salvation.  What 
is  out  of  order  within  us,  in  the  mind  and  its  faculties,  the  will 
and  its  affections,  and  wants  to  be  set  right  in  good  thought 
and  works,  our  own  reason,  in  your  notion  of  religion,  is  sufficient 
to  regulate,  and  unassisted  by  the  illumination  of  the  holy  spirit 
of  God,  we  may  live  in  an  uncorrupted  state  of  piety  and  morality, 
and  so  save  our  souls,  if  we  please.  This  is  what  I  cannot  believe. 
The  grace  of  God  in  the  gospel  is  the  glory  and  comfort  of  the 
Christian  religion.  A  divine  operation  that  renews  and  sanctifies 
the  mind  is  an  invaluable  blessing,  and  in  a  manner  inexpressibly 
charming,  satisfies  me  beyond  hesitation,  that  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  true,  while  it  puts  me  in  the  actual  possession  of  the  good 
effects  of  it.  The  spirit  of  God  discovers  to  me  the  state  of  my 
own  mind,  in  all  the  circumstances  of  a  Christian  life,  sets  my 
follies,  my  neglects,  and  my  failings,  in  order  before  me,  which  is 
the  first  right  step  in  order  to  the  overcoming  them  ;  and  then 
observing  the  discoveries  I  was  not  able  to  make  myself,  and 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  71 

i  aving  a  strong  faith  in  the  divine  power  and  sufficiency,  I  am 
enabled  to  gain  victories  my  insufficient  reason  could  never  obtain. 
May  this  divine  monitor  then  abide  in  my  breast.  It  is  by  the 
heavenly  assistance  of  the  holy  spirit  only,  as  vouchsafed  in  the 
Christian  dispensation,  that  I  can  secure  for  myself  eternal  life. 
The  wise  and  prudent  of  this  world  may  think  as  they  please  of 
this  matter,  and  produce  reasonings  against  it  beyond  my  power 
to  answer  ;  but  for  my  part,  I  must  consider  it  as  the  principle 
of  my  salvation,  and  I  think  I  cannot  be  thankful  enough  for  the 
inestimable  blessings.  It  is  to  me  a  glorious  instance  of  the  great 
wisdom  and  goodness  of  God." 

"  Madam,"  I  replied,  "in  relation  to  your  first  objection,  that 
I  make  no  difference  between  revealed  and  natural  religion,  for 
nature  is  as  sufficient  as  grace,  in  my  account,  I  assure  you  that  I 
think  the  revelation  of  the  gospel  excels  the  best  scheme  of  natural 
religion  that  could  be  proposed  ;  in  declaring  the  terms  of  recon- 
cilement, in  demonstrating  the  divine  wrath  against  sin,  in  the 
method  of  shewing  mercy  by  the  death  of  God's  beloved  son,  and 
the  promise  of  free  pardon  on  the  condition  of  repentance  and 
newness  of  life.  This  manner  gives  unspeakable  comfort  to 
repenting  sinners.  It  gives  the  greatest  encouragement  to  engage 
them  to  the  love  of  God,  and  the  practice  of  all  his  commandments 
an  encouragement  that  reason  could  not  discover.  To  Christi- 
anity, therefore,  the  true  preference  is  due.  Though  philosophy 
or  the  doctrine  of  reason  may  reform  men,  yet  the  Christian  reli- 
gion is  a  clearer  and  more  powerful  guide.  It  improves  the  light 
of  reason  by  the  supernatural  evidence  and  declaration  of  God's 
will,  and  the  means  of  man's  redemption  is  a  more  efficacious 
motive  and  obligation  to  universal  obedience  than  nature  could 
ever  with  certainty  propose.  A  revelation  that  has  the  clearest 
and  strongest  evidence  of  being  the  divine  will,  must  be  the  most 
easy  and  effectual  method  of  instruction,  and  be  more  noticed 
than  the  best  human  teaching  ;  and  this  will  of  God  being  truly 
and  faithfully  committed  to  writing,  and  preserved  uncorrupt, 
must  always  be  the  best  and  surest  rule  of  faith  and  manners. 
It  is  a  rule  absolutely  free  from  all  those  errors  and  superstitions, 
both  of  belief  and  practice,  which  no  human  composure  was  ever 
before  free  from,  or,  probably  would  have  been  free  from,  without 
the  assistance  of  such  a  revelation.  Nor  is  this  all  This  is  not 
the  only  superior  excellence  of  our  holy  religion. 

"  A  Mediator  and  crucified  Redeemer  brought  into  the  Chris- 
tian revelation,  has  a  noble  effect  on  a  considering  mind,  and 
shews  the  reasonableness  of  the  gospel-dispensation.  The  wisest 
and  most  rational  heathens  ever  were  for  sacrifices  and  mediators, 
as  the  greatness  of  God  was  thereby  declared,  and  that  not  only 
sin  deserved  punishment,  but  men's  lives  to  be  forfeited  by  their 
breach  of  the  divine  laws  ;  and  when  a  divine  person,  made  man, 


72  THE  LIFE  OF 


like  unto  us,  appears  instead  of  all  other  mediators,  by  whom,  as 
the  instrument  of  the  means  of  salvaton,  we  are  to  offer  up  our 
prayers  to  the  only  true  God  ;  and  his  voluntary  dying  in  testi- 
mony of  the  truth  of  his  mission  and  doctrine,  is  apponted  to  be 
instead  of  all  other  sacrifices,  and  to  remain  a  memorial  that  God 
requires  no  atonement  of  us,  but  repentance  and  newness  of  life  ; 
and  the  spotless  virtues  and  obedience  of  this  divine  Redeemer, 
are  to  be  a  most  perfect  and  moving  example  for  us  to  imitate  ; 
this  renders  Christianity  worthy  of  God,  and  makes  it  the  perfec- 
}ion  of  religion.  Great  then  are  the  advantages  which  the  revela- 
tion of  Christ  Jesus  has  above  mere  reason,  darkened  by  the  clouds 
of  error  and  a  general  corruption  It  is  the  most  perfect  rule  of 
life.  It  is  the  most  powerful  means  to  promote  a  constant  uni- 
form practice  of  virtue  and  piety  It  advances  human  nature 
to  its  highest  perfection,  fills  it  with  all  the  fruits  of  righteousness, 
and  grants  us  privileges  and  blessings  far  superior  to  what  we 
could  attain  any  other  way. 

"  With  regard  to  the  second  objection,  that  I  take  away  the 
grace  of  God,  to  preserve  the  dignity  of  human  nature,  this  is  far 
from  my  intention.  I  do  indeed  think,  that  as  the  gospel  was 
given  for  the  noblest  purpose  ;  to  wit,  to  call  in  an  extraordinary 
manner  upon  mankind,  to  forsake  that  vice  and  idolatry,  the 
corrupt  creed  of  polytheism,  the  guilt  of  superstition,  their  great 
iniquities,  violent  passions,  and  worldly  affections,  which  are  all 
contrary  to  reason,  and  disgrace  human  nature  ;  and  to  practise 
that  whole  system  of  morality,  which  they  must  know  to  be  most 
useful  to  them  ;  that  they  might  turn  to  a  religion  which  had  but 
one  object,  the  Great  Invisible  Being,  all-knowing,  and  all-suf- 
ficent,  to  whom  all  the  intelligent  world  are  to  make  their  devout 
applications  ;  because  he  is  an  infinite,  independent,  sovereign 
mind,  who  has  created  all  things,  and  absolutely  rules  and  governs 
all ;  possesses  all  natural  perfections,  exists  in  all  duration,  fills 
all  space  with  his  presence,  and  is  the  omniscient  witness  of  all 
their  difficulties  and  wants  ;  and  that  since  they  were  bound  by 
all  the  ties  of  moral  duty  to  obey  this  one  God,  and  observe  the 
rational  institutions  of  religion,  therefore  they  should  make  it  the 
labour  of  their  whole  lives  to  excel  in  holiness  and  righteousness, 
and  by  virtue  and  piety  unite  themselves  to  God,  and  entitle 
themselves  to  glory  at  the  great  day.  That  as  this  is  the  nature, 
end,  and  design  of  the  Christian  revelation,  so  I  do  think  the 
gospel  of  our  salvation  the  word  of  truth,  as  an  apostle  calls  it,  is 
sufficient  for  the  purpose,  without  immediate  impulses.  As  we 
have  a  reasonable,intellectual  nature,  there  is  no  want  of  mechani- 
cal powers.  The  words  of  Christ,  which  are  the  words  of  God, 
are,  our  life,  and  will,  if  attended  to,  powerfully  enable  us  to 
practise  good  works,  and  to  excel,  and  persevere  therein.  I  can 
do  all  these  things,  through  Christ,  who  strengthened  me,  that 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  73 

is,  through  the  written  directions  of  Christ,  and  through  the 
arguments  and  motives  of  the  Christian  doctrine  To  say  other- 
wise of  the  gospel  is,  in  my  opinion,  injurious  to  it. 

"  God  may,  to  be  sure,  give  special  aids  to  men,  whenever  he 
thinks  fit.  He  may,  by  an  extraordinary  agency,  render  our 
faculties  more  capable  of  apprehension,  where  divine  things  are 
concerned,  may  awaken  a  dormant  idea,  which  lay  neglected  in 
the  memory,  with  unusual  energy  ;  may  secretly  attract  the  more 
attentive  regard  of  the  mind,  and  give  it  an  inclination  and  an 
ability  of  tracing  its  various  relations,  with  an  unusual  attention, 
so  that  a  lustre  before  quite  unknown  shall  be,  as  it  were,  poured 
upon  it ;  the  spirit  of  God  may  render  the  mind  more  susceptible 
and  more  tenacious  of  divine  knowledge  ;  I  believe  he  often  does 
by  interposition,  if  in  the  spirit  of  Christ's  doctrine  we  ask  it  of 
the  great  Father  of  Lights,  the  author  of  all  the  understanding 
divided  among  the  various  ranks  of  created  beings  ;  who,  as  he 
first  formed  the  minds  of  angels  and  men,  continues  the  exercise 
of  their  intellectual  faculties,  and  one  way  or  another  communi- 
cates to  them  all  the  knowledge  of  every  kind  which  they  possess  ; 
in  which  view  all  our  knowledge  of  every  kind  may  be  called  a 
revelation  from  God,  and  be  ascribed,  as  it  is  by  Elihu  in  Job,  to 
the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty.  This  the  holy  Spirit  may  do, 
and  dissipate  a  prejudice  that  opposes  truth.  But  this  is  not 
always  necessary,  nor  always  to  be  expected.  It  is  evident  from 
the  gospel,  that  our  Lord  rather  speaks  of  his  word  and  doctrine, 
as  the  aids  to  save  men's  souls,  than  of  himself,  or  spirit,  personally 
considered.  Abiding  in  him,  and  he  in  them,  as  necessary  to 
their  bearing  fruit,  signifies  a  strict  and  steady  regard  to  his  word, 
and  the  influence  of  that  upon  our  minds.  '  If  ye  abide  in  me, 
and  my  words  abide  in  you  ;  ye  shall  ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall 
be  done  unto  you  :  '  that  is,  '  If  you  continue  to  believe  in  me, 
and  to  pay  a  steady  regard  to  my  doctrine,  you  will  be  highly 
acceptable  to  God.' 

"  In  short,  '  as  no  man  can  come  unto  me,'  says  our  Lord, 
'  except  the  Father  which  hath  sent  me  draw  him  ;  '  that  is  no 
man  will  receive  my  pure,  sublime  and  spiritual  doctrine,  unless 
he  have  first  gained  some  just  apprehensions  concerning  the 
general  principles  of  religion  ;  but  if  he  has  a  good  notion  of  God 
and  his  perfections,  and  desires  to  advance  in  virtue,  he  will  come 
unto  me,  and  hearken  to  that  revelation,  which  contains  the  best 
directions  for  the  performance  of  all  the  duties,  and  the  greatest 
incitement  to  virtue,  piety  and  devotion,  so,  no  man  can  come 
to  the  Father  but  by  the  Son,  that  is,  by  obeying  the  written  word 
and  proceeding  in  that  way  in  which  the  Son  has  declared  it  to 
be  the  will  of  the  Father,  that  men  should  come  to  him,  namely 
by  keeping  God's  commandments,  and  by  repentance  and  amend- 
ment of  life  ;  there  being  no  other  name,  or  way  given  among  men, 


74  THE  LIFE  OF 

but  this  way  given  or  declared  by  Jesus  Christ,  by  which  they 
may  be  saved.  In  all  this,  there  is  not  a  word  of  supernatural 
light  or  operation  ;  though  such  operation,  as  before  observed, 
there  may  be.  There  is  not  a  hint  of  man's  natural  inability. 

"  To  the  glorious  gospel  then,  the  gospel  of  our  salvation,  the 
word  of  truth,  the  word  of  life,  let  us  come,  and  with  diligence 
and  impartiality  study  it.  Let  us  follow  the  truth  we  there  find 
in  every  page,  and  it  will  enable  us  to  triumph  over  the  temptation 
of  allurement  and  of  terror.  We  shall  become  the  children  of 
God  by  the  spirit  of  adoption.  We  shall  be  easy  and  happy  in 
this  life,  and  glorious  and  ever  blessed  in  that  which  is  to  come. 
If  we  obey  the  gospel  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  hearken  to  his  word, 
he  will  take  us  under  his  guardian  care.  He  descended  from 
heaven,  to  deliver  us  from  everlasting  ruin,  he  purchased  us  with 
the  price  of  his  own  blood,  and  if  we  live  up  to  the  word  of  truth, 
he  will  conduct  us  safely  through  life  and  death,  into  the  abode 
of  holy  and  happy  spirits,  and  at  length  raise  our  bodies  from  the 
dust,  and  fix  our  complete  persons  in  a  state  of  immortal  glory 
and  felicity.  This  is  my  sense  of  religion.  Where  I  am  wrong 
I  shall  ever  be  glad  to  be  set  right." 

Mrs.  PRICE  made  no  reply,  and  so  ended  this  remarkable  con- 
versation. On  whose  side  the  truth  is,  the  reader  is  to  judge. 
What  she  advances  for  supernatural  operation  is  strong  and  pious  ; 
and  considering  Mrs.  PRICE  had  no  learning,  and  was  almost  with- 
out any  reading,  I  thought  it  very  wonderful  to  hear  her  on  this, 
and  many  other  subjects.  She  was  such  another  genius  as  Chubb, 
but  on  the  other  side  of  the  question  ;  if  she  had  been  able  to  write 
as  sensibly  and  correctly  as  she  talked  on  several  articles  of  reli- 
gion, she  would  have  made  a  good  author.  So  much  goodness 
and  good  sense  I  have  not  very  often  found  in  her  kind.  They 
merit  a  memorial  in  a  journal  of  the  curious  things  that  have 
occurred  to  me  in  my  life-time. 

The  thirteenth  of  June,  1725,  I  took  my  leave  of  my  friend, 
JOHN  PRICE,  and  his  admirable  wife,  promising  to  visit  them 
again  as  soon  as  it  was  in  my  power,  and  proceeded  on  my  journey 
in  quest  of  Mr.  Turner.  I  would  not  let  PRICE  go  with  me,  on 
second  thoughts,  as  many  sad  accidents  might  happen  in  this 
rough  and  desolate  part  of  the  world,  and  no  relief  in  such  case 
to  be  found.  If  I  fell,  there  was  no  one  belonging  to  me  to  shed 
a  tear  for  me  ;  but  if  a  mischief  should  befal  JACK  PRICE,  his  wife 
would  be  miserable  indeed,  and  I  the  maker  of  a  breach  in  the 
sweetest  system  of  felicity  that  love  and  good  sense  had  ever 
formed.  This  made  me  refuse  his  repeated  offers  to  accompany 
me.  All  I  would  have  was  a  boy  and  horse  of  his,  to  carry  some 
provisions  wet  and  dry,  as  there  was  no  public-house  to  be  found 
in  ascending  those  tremendous  hills,  or  in  the  deep  vales  through 
which  I  must  go  ;  nor  any  house  that  he  knew  of  beyond  his  own. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  75 

With  the  rising  sun  then  I  set  out,  and  was  charmed  for  several 
hours  with  the  air  and  views.  The  mountains,  the  rocky  preci- 
pices the  woods  and  the  waters,  appeared  in  various  striking 
situations  every  mile  I  travelled  on,  and  formed  the  most  astonish- 
ing points  of  view.  Sometimes  I  was  above  the  clouds,  and  then 
crept  to  enchanting  vallies  below.  Here  glens  were  seen  that 
looked  as  if  the  mountains  had  been  rent  asunder  to  form  the 
amazing  scenes,  and  there,  forests  and  falling  streams  covered 
the  sides  of  the  hlls.  Rivers  in  many  places,  in  the  most  beau- 
tiful cascades,  were  tumbling  along  ;  and  cataracts  from  the  tops 
of  mountains  came  roaring  down.  The  whole  was  grand,  wonder- 
ful, and  fine.  On  the  top  of  one  of  the  mountains  I  passed  over 
at  noon,  the  air  was  piercing  cold,  on  account  of  its  great  height, 
and  so  subtle,  that  we  breathed  with  difficulty,  and  were  a  little 
sick.  From  hence  I  saw  several  black  subjacent  clouds  big  with 
thunder,  and  the  lightning  within  them  rolled  backwards  and 
forwards,  like  shining  bodies  of  the  brightest  lustre.  One  of  them 
went  off  in  the  grandest  horrors  through  the  vale  below,  and  had 
no  more  to  do  with  the  pike  I  was  on  than  if  it  had  been  a  summit 
in  another  planet.  The  scene  was  prodigiously  fine.  Sub  pedibus 
ventos  et  rauca  tonitrua  calcat. 

Till  the  evening,  I  rid  and  walked  it,  and  in  numberless  wind- 
ings round  impassable  hills,  and  by  the  sides  of  rivers  it  was  im- 
possible to  cross,  journeyed  a  great  many  miles,  but  no  human 
creature,  or  any  kind  of  house,  did  I  meet  with  in  all  the  long  way, 
and  as  I  arrived  at  last  at  a  beautiful  lake,  whose  banks  the  hand 
of  nature  had  adorned  with  vast  old  trees,  I  sat  down  by  this  water 
in  the  shade  to  dine,  on  a  neat's  tongue  I  had  got  from  good  Mrs. 
PRICE  ;  and  was  so  delighted  with  the  striking  beauties  and  still- 
ness of  the  place,  that  I  determined  to  pass  the  night  in  this  sweet 
retreat.  Nor  was  it  one  night  only,  if  I  had  my  will,  that  I  would 
have  rested  there.  Often  did  I  wish  for  a  convenient  little  lodge 
by  this  sweet  water-side,  and  that  with  the  numerous  swans,  and 
other  fowl  that  lived  there,  I  might  have  spent  my  time  in  peace 
below,  till  I  was  removed  to  the  established  seat  of  happiness 
above. 

Had  this  been  possible,  I  should  have  avoided  many  an  afflic- 
tion, and  had  known  but  few  of  those  expectations  and  disappoint- 
ments, which  render  life  a  scene  of  emptiness,  and  bitterness 
itself.  My  years  would  have  rolled  on  in  peace  and  wisdom,  in 
this  sequestered,  delightful  scene,  and  my  silent  meditations  had 
been  productive  of  that  good  temper  and  good  action,  which  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  the  dissolution  of  the  world,  the  judge- 
ment day,  and  the  eternal  state  of  men,  requires  us  to  have.  Free 
from  the  various  perplexities,  and  troubles  I  have  experienced 
by  land  and  sea,  in  different  parts  of  the  world,  I  should  have  lived, 
in  this  paradise  of  a  place,  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  fine  happiness, 


76  THE  LIFE  OF 


which  easy  country  business  and  a  studious  life  afford  ;  and  might 
have  made  a  better  preparation  for  that  hour  which  is  to  disunite 
me,  and  let  my  invisible  spirit  depart  to  the  shades  of  eternity. 
Happy  they,  who  in  some  such  rural  retirement,  can  employ  some 
useful  hours  every  day  in  the  management  of  a  little  comfortable 
farm,  and  devote  the  greater  portion  of  their  time  to  sacred  know- 
ledge, heavenly  piety,  and  angelic  goodness  ;  which  cannot  be 
dissolved  when  the  thinker  goes,  nor  be  confined  to  the  box  of 
obscurity,  under  the  clods  of  the  earth  ;  but  will  exist  in  our  souls 
for  ever,  and  enable  us  to  depart  in  peace  to  the  happy  regions. 
This  has  ever  made  me  prefer  a  retired  country  life,  when  it  was 
in  my  power  to  enjoy  it.     But  be  it  town  or  country,  the  main 
business,  my  good  readers,  should  be  to  secure  an  inheritance  in 
that  eternal  world,  where  the  sanctified  live  with  God  and  his 
Christ.     Getting,  keeping,  multiplying  money  ;  dress,  pleasure, 
entry  ;  are  not  only  little  things  for  such  beings  as  we  are  :  they 
are  indeed  sad  principal  work  for  creatures  that  are  passing  away 
to  an  everlasting  state  :  there  to  lament  their  lost  day,  and  talents 
misapplied,  in  dreadful  agonies,  in  the  habitations  of  darkness  ; 
or  to  remain  for  ever  in  the  habitations  of  light,  peace,  and  joy  ; 
if  you  have  laboured  to  obtain,  and  improve  in  the  graces  and 
virtuous  qualities  which  the  gospel  recommends.     These  are  the 
treasure  and  possession  worth  a  Christian's  acquiring.     These 
only  are  portable  into  the  eternal  world  ;  when  the  body  that  was 
clothed  in  purple  and  fine  linen,  and  fared  sumptuously  every 
day,  is  laid  in  a  cold  and  narrow  cave.     Take  my  advice  then, 
reader.     Be  ready.     Let  us  so  think  and  act  in  this  first  state, 
that  in  the  next,  we  may  meet  in  the  regions  of  purity  and  right- 
teousness,  serenity  and  joy. 

The  lake  I  have  mentioned  was  the  largest  I  had  seen  in  this 
wild  part,  being  above  a  mile  in  length,  and  more  than  half  a  mile 
broad ;  and  the  water  that  filled  it  burst  with  the  greatest  impe- 
tuosity from  the  inside  of  a  rocky  mountain,  that  is  very  wonder- 
ful to  behold.  It  is  a  vast  craggy  precipice,  that  ascends  till  it  is 
almost  out  of  sight,  and  by  its  gloomy  and  tremendous  air,  strikes 
the  mind  with  a  horror  that  has  something  pleasing  in  it.  This 
amazing  cliff  stands  perpendicular  at  one  end  of  the  lake,  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  yards,  and  has  an  opening  at  the  bottom,  that 
is  wide  enough  for  two  coaches  to  enter  at  once,  if  the  place  was 
dry.  In  the  middle  of  it  there  is  a  deep  channel,  down  which  the 
water  rushes  with  a  mighty  swiftness  and  force,  and  on  either 
side,  the  stone  rises  a  yard  above  the  impetuous  stream.  The 
ascent  is  easy  and  flat.  How  far  it  goes,  I  know  not,  being  afraid 
to  ascend  more  than  forty  yards;  not  only  on  account  of  the  terrors 
common  to  the  place,  from  the  fall  of  so  much  water  with  a  strange 
kind  of  roar,  and  the  height  of  the  arch  which  covers  the  torrent 
all  the  way  :  but  because  as  I  went  up,  there  was  of  a  sudden,  an 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  77 

increase  of  noise  so  very  terrible,  that  my  heart  failed  me,  and  a 
trembling  almost  disabled  me.  The  rock  moved  under  me,  as 
the  frightful  sounds  encreased,  and  as  quick  as  it  was  possible 
for  me,  I  came  into  day  again.  It  was  well  I  did  ;  for  I  had  not 
been  many  minutes  out,  before  the  water  overflowed  its  channel, 
and  filled  the  whole  opening  in  rushing  to  the  lake.  The  increase 
of  the  water  and  the  violence  of  the  discharge  were  an  astonish- 
ing sight.  I  had  a  fortunate  escape. 

As  the  rocky  mountain  I  have  mentioned,  is  higher  than  either 
Snowden  in  North- Wales,  or  Kedar-Idris  in  Merionethshire, 
which  have  been  thought  the  highest  mountains  in  this  island  ; 
that  is,  it  is  full  a  mile  and  a  half  high  from  the  basis,  as  I  found 
by  ascending  it  with  great  toil  on  the  side  that  was  from  the  water, 
and  the  top  was  a  flat  dry  rock,  that  had  not  the  least  spring,  or 
piece  of  water  on  it,  how  shall  we  account  for  the  rapid  flood  that 
proceeded  from  its  inside  ?  Where  did  this  great  water  come 
from  ?  I  answer,  might  it  not  flow  from  the  great  abyss,  and 
the  great  encrease  of  it,  and  the  fearful  noise,  and  the  motion  of 
the  rock,  be  owing  to  some  violent  commotion  in  the  abyss,  occa- 
sioned by  some  natural  or  supernatural  cause  ? 

That  there  is  such  an  abyss,  no  one  can  doubt  that  believes 
revelation,  and  from  reason  and  history  it  is  credible,  that  there 
are  violent  concussions  on  this  vast  collection  of  water,  by  the 
divine  appointment  :  and  therefore,  I  imagine  it  is  from  thence 
the  water  of  this  mountain  proceeds,  and  the  great  overflowing 
and  terrifying  sound  at  certain  times.  To  this  motion  of  the 
abyss,  by  the  divine  power  exerted  on  it,  I  ascribe  the  earth- 
quakes ;  and  not  to  vapour,  or  electricity.  As  to  electricity, 
which  Dr.  Stukely  makes  the  cause  of  the  deplorable  downfall  of 
Lisbon,  in  his  book  on  The  Philosophy  of  Earthquakes  ;  there  are 
many  things  to  be  objected  against  its  being  the  origin  of  such 
calamities  ;  one  objection  is,  and  it  is  an  insuperable  one,  that 
electrical  shocks  are  ever  momentary,  by  every  experiment,  but 
earthquakes  are  felt  for  several  minutes.  Another  is,  that  many 
towns  have  been  swallowed  up  in  earthquakes,  though  Lisbon 
was  only  overthrown.  Such  was  the  case  of  the  city  of  Callao, 
within  two  leagues  of  Lima.  Though  Lima  was  only  tumbled 
into  ruins,  October  28,  1746  ;  yet  Callao  sunk  downright  with  all 
its  inhabitants,  and  an  unfathomable  sea  now  covers  the  finest 
port  in  Peru,  as  I  have  seen  on  the  spot.  In  the  earthquake  at 
Jamaica,  June  7,  1692,  in  which  several  thousands  perished,  it  is 
certain,  that  not  only  many  houses,  and  a  great  number  of  people, 
were  entirely  swallowed  up  ;  but  that,  at  many  of  the  gapings  or 
openings  of  the  earth,  torrents  of  water  that  formed  great  rivers, 
issued  forth.  This  I  had  from  a  man  of  veracity  then  on  the  spot, 
who  was  an  eye-witness  of  these  things,  and  expected  himself 
every  minute  to  descend  to  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  which  heaved 


78  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  swelled  like  a  rolling  sea.  Now  to  me  the  electrical  stroke 
does  not  appear  sufficient  to  produce  these  things.  The  power 
of  electricity,  to  be  sure  is  vast  and  amazing.  It  may  cause  great 
tremors  and  undulations  of  the  earth,  and  bring  down  all  the 
buildings  of  a  great  city  ;  but  as  to  splitting  the  earth  to  great 
depths,  and  forcing  up  torrents  of  water,  where  there  was  no 
sign  of  the  fluid  element  before,  I  question  much  if  the  vehemence 
of  the  elemental  electric  fire  does  this.  Beside,  when  mountains 
and  cities  sink  into  the  earth,  and  the  deepest  lakes  are  now  seen 
to  fill  all  the  place  where  they  once  stood,  as  has  been  the  case  in 
many  countries,  where  could  these  mighty  waters  come,  but  from 
the  abyss  ?  The  great  lake  Oroquantur  in  Pegu,  was  once  a  vast 
city.  In  Jamaica,  there  is  a  large  deep  lake  where  once  a  moun- 
tain stood.  In  an  earthquake  in  China,  in  the  province  of  Sanci, 
deluges  of  water  burst  out  of  the  earth,  Feb.  7,  1556,  and  inun- 
dated the  country  for  180  miles.  Many  more  instances  of  this 
kind  I  might  produce,  exclusive  of  Sodom,  the  ground  of  which 
was  inundated  by  an  irruption  of  waters  from  beneath,  which 
now  forms  the  Dead  Sea  ;  after  the  city  was  destroyed  by  fire 
from  above  ;  that  the  land  which  had  been  defiled  with  the  unna- 
tural lusts  of  the  inhabitants  might  be  no  more  inhabited,  but 
remain  a  lasting  monument  of  the  divine  vengeance  on  such 
crimes,  to  the  end  of  the  world  ;  and  the  use  I  would  make  of  those 
I  have  mentioned,  is  to  show  that  these  mighty  waters  were  from 
the  furious  concussion  of  the  abyss  that  caused  the  earthquakes. 
Electricity,  I  think,  can  never  make  seas  and  vast  lakes  to  be 
where  there  were  none  before.  Locherne,  in  the  county  of  Ferma- 
nagh, in  the  province  of  Ulster  in  Ireland,  is  thirty  three  miles 
long,  and  fourteen  broad,  and  as  the  old  Irish  Chronicle  in- 
forms us,  was  once  a  place  where  large  and  populous  towns 
appeared,  till  for  the  great  iniquity  of  the  inhabitants,  the 
people  and  their  fair  habitations  were  destroyed  in  an  earthquake, 
and  mighty  waters  from  the  earth  covered  the  place,  and  formed 
this  lake.  Could  the  electrical  stroke  produce  this  sea  that  was 
not  to  be  found  there  before  the  destruction  ?  Is  it  not  more 
reasonable  to  suppose,  that  such  vast  waters  have  been  forced 
by  a  supernatural  commotion  from  the  great  abyss,  in  the  earth- 
quake that  destroyed  the  towns  which  once  stood  in  this  place  ? 

To  this  then,  till  I  am  better  informed,  I  must  ascribe  such 
earthquakes  as  produce  great  rivers  and  lakes  ;  and  where  no 
waters  appear,  I  believe  the  earthquakes  are  caused  by  the  imme- 
diate finger  of  God  ;  either  operating  on  the  abyss,  though  not  so 
as  to  make  the  water  break  out  on  the  earth  or  by  directing  the 
electrical  violence  or  stroke  ;  or  otherwise  acting  on  the  ruined 
cities  and  shattered  places. 

For  my  part,  I  think  it  is  a  grievous  mistake  in  our  philosophical 
enquiries,  to  assign  so  much  to  second  causes  as  the  learned  do. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  79 

The  government  of  the  universe  is  given  to  matter  and  motion, 
and  under  pretence  of  extolling  original  contrivance,  the  execu- 
tion of  all  is  left  to  dead  substance.  It  is  just  and  reasonable, 
in  which  even  Newton  and  M'Laurin  agree,  to  suppose  that  the 
whole  chain  of  causes,  or  the  several  series  of  them,  should  centre 
in  him,  as  their  source  and  fountain  ;  and  the  whole  system  appear 
depending  upon  him,  the  only  independent  cause.  Now  to  me  this 
supposition  does  not  appear  either  j ust  or  reasonable.  I  think  the 
noble  phenomena  of  nature  ought  to  be  ascribed  to  the  immediate 
operation  of  the  Deity.  Without  looking  for  a  subtile  elastic 
medium,  to  produce  gravity  ;  which  medium  Sir  Isaac  confesses 
he  had  no  proof  of  ;  nor  is  there  in  reality  such  a  thing  in  the  uni- 
verse ;  I  imagine  the  divine  Newton  would  have  done  better,  if, 
after  establishing  the  true  system  by  nature,  by  demonstrating 
the  law  of  gravity,  he  had  said  this  gravity  was  the  constant  and 
undeniable  evidence  of  the  immediate  influence  of  the  Deity  in 
the  material  universe.  A  series  of  material  causes  betwixt  Deity 
and  effect,  is,  in  truth,  concealing  him  from  the  knowledge  of 
mortals  for  ever.  In  the  moral  government  of  the  world,  second 
causes  do,  because  free-agents  act  a  part  ;  but,  in  the  material 
universe  to  apply  them,  to  me  seems  improper,  as  matter  and 
motion  only,  that  is,  mechanism,  come  in  competition  with  the 
Deity.  Most  certainly  he  constantly  interposes.  The  divine 
power  is  perpetually  put  forth  throughout  all  nature.  Every 
particle  of  matter,  must  necessarily,  by  its  nature,  for  ever  go 
wrong,  without  the  continued  act  of  Deity.  His  everlasting 
interposition  only  can  cause  a  body  moving  in  a  circle  to  change 
the  direction  of  its  motion  in  every  point.  Nor  is  it  possible  for 
subtile  matter,  the  supposed  cause  of  gravity,  to  know  to  impel 
bodies  to  a  centre,  with  quadruple  force  at  half  the  distance. 

And  as  in  gravity,  and  in  the  cohesion  of  the  parts  of  matter, 
the  Deity  is,  and  acts  in  the  motion  of  the  celestial  bodies,  and 
in  the  resistance  the  least  particles  make  to  any  force  that  would 
separate  them  ;  so  is  his  immediate  power,  I  think  for  myself, 
exerted  not  only  in  earthquakes  and  tides,  but  in  the  circulations 
of  the  blood,  lymph,  and  chyle,  in  muscular  motion,  and  in 
various  other  phaenomena  that  might  be  named.  Books  I 
know  have  been  written,  and  ingenious  books  they  are,  to  show 
the  causes  of  these  things,  and  trace  the  ways  they  are  performed 
by  the  materials  themselves  ;  but  these  explications  never  satis- 
fied me.  I  had  as  many  questions  to  ask,  after  reading  these 
books,  as  I  had  before  I  looked  into  them,  and  could  find  no 
operator  but  infinite  power,  conducted  by  infinite  wisdom. 

As  to  the  force  of  the  moon,  in  raising  tides,  and,  that  spring 
tides  are  produced  by  the  sum  of  the  actions  of  the  two  luminaries, 
when  the  moon  is  in  Syzygy,  there  is  much  fine  mathematical 
reasoning  to  prove  it,  which  the  reader  may  find  in  Dr.  Halley's 


8o  THE  LIFE  OF 


abstract  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton's  Theory  of  the  Tides  ;  and  in  Dr. 
Rutherforth's  System  of  Natural  Philosophy  ;  but  nevertheless, 
the  concomitance  of  water  and  luminary,  or  the  revolutions  of 
ocean  and  moon  answering  one  another  so  exactly  that  the  flow 
always  happens  when  the  moon  hangs  over  the  ocean,  and  the 
spring  tides  when  it  is  nearer  the  earth,  which  is  supposed  to  be 
in  the  new  and  full  moon  ;  this  does  not  prove  to  me,  that  the 
periodical  flux  and  reflux  of  the  sea  is  derived  from  mechanism. 
As  we  have  two  ebbs  and  two  flows  in  twenty-four  hours,  and 
the  moon  comes  but  once  in  that  time  to  our  meridian,  how  can 
the  second  ebb  and  flow  be  ascribed  to  it  ?  and  when,  beneath  the 
horizon,  in  the  opposite  hemisphere,  the  moon  crosses  the  meri- 
dian again,  is  it  credible,  that  from  the  eastern  and  southern 
ocean,  round  Good  Hope  and  Cape  Horn,  it  should  as  soon  over- 
flow our  coasts,  as  when  it  is  vertical  to  the  shores  of  Guinea  ? 
If  the  moon,  in  conjunction  with  the  sun,  by  pression  and  attrac- 
tion, was  the  princpal  cause  of  flux  and  reflux,  why  is  there  no 
established  tide  on  the  Mediterranean  sea,  though  of  a  vast  breadth, 
and  two  thousand  miles  in  length  from  the  Streights  of  Gibraltar 
to  the  coasts  of  Syria  and  Palestine  ;  but  only  some  irregular 
and  unaccountable  swellings  and  falls  in  a  few  places  of  this  sea, 
to  wit,  at  Tunis,  Messina,  Venice,  and  Negropont ;  and  these 
swellings,  as  I  have  seen,  flowing  sometimes  four,  five,  six  or 
seven,  and  eight  times  in  twenty-four  hours  ;  in  the  most  irre- 
gular manner  ;  against  the  fixed  laws  of  pression  and  attraction, 
ascribed  to  the  moon  and  sun,  on  a  supposition  of  their  causing 
the  tides  ?  If  pression,  and  the  strong  attractive  power  of  the 
moon,  and  the  weaker  influence  of  the  sun,  forces  the  immense 
ocean  twice  a  day  from  its  natural  quietus,  and  rolls  it  in  tides, 
why  has  the  Caspian  sea  no  tide  ;  no  swelling  or  flow,  regular  or 
irregular,  excepting  that  sometimes,  in  the  space  of  sixteen  years, 
and  never  sooner,  it  rises  many  fathoms,  and  drowns  the  adjacent 
country  ;  to  the  almost  ruin,  sometimes  of  Astracan  in  Asiatic 
Russia  ;  as  happened  when  I  was  there  to  embark  for  Persia  ? 
If  it  be  said,  that  this  is  properly  a  lake,  having  no  communica- 
tion with  the  ocean  ;  yet,  I  answer,  that  it  is  in  every  quality  of 
saltness,  &c.  as  much  a  sea  as  any  other  sea  ;  and  large  enough 
for  the  luminaries  attraction  and  pression  ;  being  five  hundred 
miles  from  north  to  south,  and  near  four  hundred  miles  in  bredth 
from  east  to  west  :  I  say,  large  enough  to  avoid  continuing 
necessarily  in  equilibrium,  as  Dr.  Rutherforth  says  must  be  the 
case,  on  account  of  the  small  extent  of  this  sea.  Five  hundred 
by  four  hundred  miles  of  sea  does  not  require  that  such  a  sea 
should  press  equally,  or  that  the  gravity  of  its  water  should  be 
equally  diminished  in  every  part  of  it,  and  so  out  of  the  powers, 
addititious  and  ablatitious,  of  the  luminary  ;  that  is,  the  force, 
with  which  the  moon  encreases  the  waters  gravity,  and  the  force, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  81 

with  which  the  moon  diminishes  the  waters  gravity.  If  the 
moon  in  zenith  or  nadir  did  the  work,  the  equilibrium  of  the 
Caspian  might  be  destroyed,  as  well  as  any  other  equilibrium 
of  water,  by  force,  addititious  or  ablatitious,  or  by  the  sum  of 
these  forces  ;  therefore,  there  might,  by  this  theory,  be  tides  in 
the  Caspian  sea,  though  not  great  ones.  There  are  small  as  well 
as  great  tides.  The  tides  of  the  Atlantic  ocean  are  inferior  in 
every  respect  to  those  of  the  larger  Pacific  ocean.  A  quarter  of  a 
great  circle  of  the  earth,  that  is,  an  extent  of  ocean  from  east  to 
west  90°,  is  only  required,  that  the  tides  may  have  their  full  mo- 
tion. A  tide  of  less  motion  may  be  in  such  an  extent  of  sea  as 
the  Caspian. 

In  the  last  place,  how  does  the  Theory  of  Tides  account  for  the 
regular  peculiarity  of  the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  Atlantic,  different 
from  all  other  tides  ;  while  at  Bathsha  in  the  kingdom  of  Tun- 
quin  there  never  is  more  than  one  tide  in  twenty -four  hours ; 
and  some  day  no  tide  ?  For  my  part,  I  resolve  the  whole  in 
the  immediate  power  of  the  Deity.  This  power  is  gravity, 
attraction,  repulse.  The  inactivity  of  matter  requires  the  con- 
stancy and  universality  of  divine  power  to  support  the  material 
universe,  and  move  it  as  occasion  requires  ;  that  is,  as  infinite 
wisdom  sees  most  conducive  to  the  benefit  of  his  creation. 

Men  of  fine  imagination  may  make  a  wonderful  display  of 
mathematical  learning  in  accounts  of  gravity,  &c.  combined  with 
principles  of  mechanism  ;  and  electricity,  which  is  called  the 
immediate  officer  of  God  Almighty  ;  but  the  truth  is  a  con- 
stant repetition  of  divine  acts  in  regular  and  irregular  motions 
of  the  earth  and  the  seas.  The  finger  of  God  moves  the  land 
and  the  waters. 

In  the  case  of  earthquakes,  as  electricity,  or  aerial  power,  is 
insufficient  to  produce  them  in  my  opinion,  for  two  reasons, 
before  given  ;  to  wit,  that  the  electrical  stroke  is  ever  single  and 
momentary,  but  the  vibrations  of  the  earth,  in  a  quake,  are  often 
three  and  four  minutes,  and  have  held  to  seven  minutes,  and  that 
besides  the  swelling  and  trembling  of  the  earth,  it  has  so  opened 
at  those  times,  as  to  swallow  not  only  houses  and  people,  but 
even  mountains,  and  to  send  forth  great  rivers  and  vast  waters. 
And,  as  subterranean  fire  and  vapour,  I  think,  can  never  do  such 
work,  for  many  reasons  that  may  be  offered,  we  must,  T  think, 
ascribe  the  earthquakes  to  the  immediate  impression  of  divine 
power  ;  by  which  a  city  is  tumbled  into  ruins  in  three  or  four 
minutes,  in  the  sad  manner  Lisbon  was  destroyed  the  first  of 
November,  1755,  or,  the  water  of  the  great  abyss  is  with  such 
violence  moved,  fthat  it  shakes  the  arches  of  the  earth,  and 
where  infinite  wisdom  directs,  is  enabled  by  Almighty  Power  to 
open  the  globe  with  tremendous  noises,  and  pour  forth  vast 
torrents  of  water,  to  cover  a  land  where  once  a  flourishing 


82  THE  LIFE  OF 


city  has  stood.  The  electric  stroke  cannot  be  more  dreadful 
than  such  exertion  of  omnipotence.  The  immediate  action 
of  the  Deity,  to  destroy,  must  be  as  efficacious  surely 
as  any  subordinate  agent  or  cause  :  and  it  must  be  more 
terrible  to  the  mind,  as  there  can  be  no  supposition  of  accident 
in  ruin  this  way  :  but  we  see  as  it  were  the  almighty  arm,  exerting 
an  irresistible  force,  that  could  in  the  same  few  moments  that  a 
large  town  and  its  inhabitants  are  destroyed,  shake  the  whole 
world  into  one  dreadful  ruin,  or  separate  it  into  nothing.  To 
my  apprehension,  the  aerial  power  of  electricity  is  not  so  fear- 
fully striking,  as  the  Creator's  appearing,  on  the  spot,  to  shake 
terribly  the  earth  :  and  if  we  consider,  that  it  is  on  account  of 
sin,  that  God  resigns  his  omnipotence  to  his  wrath,  and  com- 
mands his  whole  displeasure  to  arise,  must  not  this  account  of  an 
earthquake  have  the  greatest  tendency  to  reform  the  manners 
of  surviving  people  ? 

As  to  the  muscular  motion,  if  it  be  rightly  considered,  it  ap- 
pears very  plainly  to  proceed  from  a  living  force,  impressed  ab 
extra  ;  that  mechanism  does  not  act  as  cause  in  this  affair  ;  but 
the  divine  power  acts  in  the  case,  as  it  does  in  many  different 
places  of  the  human  body  at  once,  and  with  inexpressible 
variety. 

Various  are  the  accounts  that  learned  men  have  given  of 
muscular  motion,  and  ingenious  are  their  reasonings  on  the  sub- 
ject :  but  they  are  not  satisfactory,  nor  do  they  at  all  explain 
the  thing,  and  account  for  it.  What  is  a  muscle  ? 

It  is  to  be  sure  a  bundle  of  small  blood  vessels,  consisting  of 
arteries  and  their  returning  veins,  laid  one  upon  another  in  their 
parallel  plates,  running  through  the  whole  length  of  the  muscle  ; 
and  at  small  intervals,  these  blood  vessels,  or  longitudinal  red 
and  fleshy  fibres,  are  contorted  and  bound  about  with  small 
transverse,  and  spiral  ramifications  and  twinings  of  the  nerves. 
This  is  a  muscle  :  it  has  two  ends,  or  tendons,  fastened  to  two 
bones,  one  of  which  is  fixed,  and  the  other  moveable  ;  and  by  the 
contraction  of  the  muscle,  the  moveable  bone  is  drawn  upon  its 
fulcrum  towards  a  fixed  point.  This  is  indisputable  ;  and  it  is 
likewise  certain,  that  the  muscles  are  to  be  distinguished  into 
those  of  voluntary,  and  those  of  natural  or  necessary  motion  : 
that  the  voluntary  muscles  have  antagonists,  which  act  alter- 
nately in  a  contrary  direction,  that  is  are  contracted  by  the 
command  of  the  will,  while  the  others  are  stretched,  and  again 
are  extended,  while  the  others  contracted  :  but  the  necessary 
muscles  have  contracting  and  extending  powers  within  themselves, 
and  need  no  antagonists. 

This  being  the  true  state  of  the  muscles,  the  question  is,  what 
causes  that  elasticity,  spring,  or  power  of  contraction  and  restora- 
tion, which  their  nervous  coats  and  fibres  have,  to  recover  them 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  83 

selves  against  a  given  weight  or  force  that  stretches  them  ?  The 
reply  is,  that  many  unanswerable  reasons  can  be  given  to  prove, 
that  this  contractive  restitutive  force  does  not  depend  on  the 
mixture  effervescence,  or  rarefaction  of  any  fluids,  humours,  or 
liquors  within  the  body  ;  and  there  is  one  convincing  experiment 
that  shews  it. 

Lay  open  the  thorax  of  a  dog,  as  I  have  often  done  ;  and  take 
a  distinct  view  of  that  famous  muscle,  the  heart,  in  its  curious  and 
wonderful  motion,  while  the  animal  is  still  alive.  In  diastole,  the 
muscle  is  very  red  and  florid,  soft  and  yielding  to  the  touch,  and 
through  it  the  vital  fluid  glows  and  shines  ;  it  appears  in  this 
state  fully  replenished  and  distended  with  blood  ;  but  in  systole, 
as  soon  as  it  begins  to  contract,  and  the  blood  rushes  out  by  the 
compression  of  the  contracting  fibres,  the  heart  loses  its 
florid  colour,  and  becomes  pale  and  livid,  compact  and  solid,  and 
evinces  that,  during  this  state  of  it,  the  muscle  contracts  inwardly 
into  its  own  dense  substance,  and  takes  up  less  space  than  before, 
till  it  returns  to  its  diastole  ;  then  the  blood  which  flowed  from 
it  with  velocity,  during  systole  through  the  coronary  veins  into 
the  auricles,  rushes  back  into  it  through  the  coronary  arteries, 
restores  the  glowing  florid  colour,  and  inflates  the  muscle, 
in  order  to  strain  the  nerve  for  the  next  contraction.  It  is  plain 
from  hence,  that  the  heart  has  less  blood  and  fluid  in  time  of 
contraction,  and  that  the  contraction  is  not  caused  by  the  addi- 
tion of  another  fluid  from  the  nerves,  as  the  learned  have 
asserted. 

And  as  to  what  they  say  of  the  longitudinal  fibres  being 
divided  into  innumerable  little  cells  or  bladders,  which  have 
communications  with  the  blood  vessels  and  nerves,  and  that  in 
these  vesicles,  the  blood  and  nervous  fluid  mix,  ferment,  and 
by  rarefaction  and  expansion,  swell  and  blow  up  the  cells,  and 
thereby  inflate  and  distend  the  muscle,  and  increase  its  thickness, 
while  its  length  is  shortened  ;  this  is  so  perplexed  and  unreason- 
able an  hypothesis,  that  I  am  astonished  how  men  of  sense  ever 
came  to  think  of  such  a  doctrine.  There  is  no  such  nervous  fluid 
to  be  found,  to  cause  this  fermentation,  rarefaction,  &c.  ;  and  if 
there  was,  expansive  force  must  lengthen  as  well  as  thicken,  and 
the  muscle  could  not  be  shortened  in  length,  and  swelled  in  thick- 
ness. The  natural  action  of  the  fluids  upon  the  solids  is,  to  in- 
crease dimensions  proportionably  every  way,  that  is,  in  the 
direction  of  the  axis  and  conjugate  diameter  equally.  Beside,  if 
there  was  expansion,  circulation  must  stop.  The  distention  of 
the  vesicles,  and  the  rapid  exit  of  the  rarefying  fluid  could  not  be 
at  once. 

The  plain  account  of  the  matter  is  then,  that  muscular  motion 
is  performed  by  the  elasticity  of  the  nervous  fibrillae,  contracting 
and  restoring  themselves  against  the  stretching  force  of  the 


84  THE  LIFE  OF 


circulating  blood.  The  contraction  of  the  muscles  straitens  and 
compresses  the  blood-vessels,  and  forces  the  blood  with  impet- 
uosity through  the  heart ;  and  this  squeezing  or  propelling  force 
gives  the  fluid  an  impetus,  that  makes  it  return  with  violence 
upon  the  muscles,  in  the  course  of  its  circulation  ;  then  by  force 
and  impulse,  it  stretches  the  transverse  and  spiral  nervous  fibres, 
and  so  extends  the  contracted  muscle,  that  drove  it  by  contrac- 
tion from  itself.  Upon  this  the  blood-vessels  having  obtained 
their  due  extent  and  capacity,  the  distending  force  of  the  blood 
of  consequences  ceases  :  but  the  moment  it  does,  the  contractive 
power  of  the  nerves  begins  to  act  again,  and  restores  them  to  a 
contracted  dense  state,  by  a  force  exactly  equal  to  that  which 
extended  them  ;  till  the  returning  propelled  blood  re-enters  the 
muscle,  and  stretches  it  again,  as  before  described.  Such  are 
the  two  wonderful  counter- forces  that  produce  the  natural  in- 
voluntary motion  of  the  heart,  and  carry  on  the  circulation  of 
the  blood.  You  see  with  your  eyes,  in  the  opened  live  dog  this 
alternate  contraction  and  extension  ;  and  as  the  stretching 
power  is  but  a  consequence  of  the  contracting  power,  contraction 
is  the  spring  of  this  wonderful  action,  in  which  our  will  or  free 
agency  has  no  concern.  And  to  what  shall  we  ascribe  this  aston- 
ishing operation,  this  amazing  contractive  power,  so  exactly  as  to 
time,  and  so  constantly  continued  on  the  muscles  of  natural  or 
necessary  motion  ;  till  the  aequilibrium  by  some  means  or  other 
be  broken  and  the  motion  is  preternaturally  interrupted  and 
suspended  ?  Will  the  great  mechanical  reasoners  say,  that 
matter  does  this  wonder — matter,  that  is  blind  and  impotent  ? 
Stuff  :  we  must  ascribe  to  a  cause  wise  and  powerful,  not  only  the 
original  contrivance  of  the  thing,  but  the  execution  of  this  ex- 
traordinary scene.  While  you  gaze  upon  this  noblest  muscle 
of  the  dog,  you  see  the  Deity  at  work. 

And  if  we  turn  our  eyes  from  the  muscles  of  mere  natural 
involuntary  motion,  which  performs  by  a  contracting  power 
acting  within  them  ;  to  those  muscles  which  move  the  bones 
and  members  of  our  bodies,  by  the  command  of  the  will,  how 
adorable  is  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Almighty  Author 
of  nature,  not  only  in  providing  the  animal  machine  with  antag- 
onistical  muscles,  one  of  which  is  contracted,  while  the  other  is 
extended  ;  but  for  stimulating,  contracting,  and  compressing  the 
nervous  elastic  cords  and  blood-vessels,  as  our  minds  command 
or  determine  !  there  is  no  possibility  of  accounting  for  the  direc- 
tions at  pleasure  of  the  antagonistic  muscles,  but  by  resolving 
them  into  the  continual  presence  and  action  of  the  first  cause. 
He  enforces  and  executes.  It  is  the  active  principle  gives  energy 
and  motion  both  to  voluntary  and  necessary  muscles.  This,  I 
think,  is  the  truth  of  philosophy.  To  suppose  every  thing  to  be 
effect  without  cause,  is  to  reduce  religion  and  philosophy  to  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  85 

same  desperate  state.  It  destroys  all  the  principles  of  reason, 
as  well  as  of  virtue  and  moral  conduct. 

To  say  all  that  can  be  said,  in  as  few  words  as  possible,  upon 
this  article,  it  is  not  only  the  muscular  motion,  necessary  and 
spontaneous,*  that  is  caused  by  the  action  of  the  Deity  ;  but  the 
constant  motions  in  the  stomach,  lungs,  intestines,  and  other 
parts  of  the  body,  are  caused  by  an  acting  Divine  Power.  It  can 
be  demonstrated,  that  in  the  action  of  soft  bodies  upon  soft 
bodies,  the  motion  is  always  diminished  ;  and  of  consequence  it 
must  be  greatly  lessened  in  the  yielding  softness  of  the  flesh  and 
fluids  of  animal  bodies.  We  see  how  soon  water  settles,  after 
motion  imprest,  by  the  bare  attrition  of  its  parts  on  one  another  ; 
although  it  has  no  obstacles  to  encounter,  or  narrow  passages  to 
move  through.  What  then  can  we  think  of  motion  in  such  nar- 
row twining  meanders,  as  veins,  arteries,  intestines,  and  lacteal 
vessels,  through  which  the  fluids  of  animal  bodies  are  conveyed 
to  parts  innumerable  ?  while  the  blood,  lymph,  and  chyle  creep 
through  such  narrow  winding  vessels,  the  whole  motion  of  those 
fluids  must  be  consumed  every  instant  by  the  attrition  of  their 
parts,  and  the  force  of  consequence  be  renewed  every  instant. 
Here  is  a  perpetual  miracle.  The  Divine  Power  urges  on  these 
fluids  ten  thousand  ways  at  once.  Reason  must  confess  a  mir- 
aculous power  indesinently  and  variously  put  forth  in  our 
bodies  ;  while  ignorance  and  vanity  in  vain  attempts  to  account 
mechanically  for  the  circulation  of  those  fluids.  We  are  not  only 
fearfully  and  wonderfully  formed  in  the  womb,  but  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  preserved  every  minute  !  creating  power  never 
ceases,  t 

The  conclusion  of  the  matter  is,  that  the  plain  argument  for  the 

*  That  even  spontaneous  motion  is  performed  by  the  divine  power,  is  proved  in  the  first 
part  of  a  most  excellent  book,  entitled,  An  Enquiry  into  the  Nature  of  the  Human  Soul,  [by 
John  Baxter,  the  third  and  best  edition  was  printed  in  two  volumes,  8vo,  in  1745  ;  a  third 
followed  in  1750].  I  shall  only  observe  here  that  motion  is  spontaneous,  as  it  is  begun  and 
ended  by  the  living  being  itself,  without  physical  necessity :  but  it  is  above  the  power  and 
knowledge  of  the  spontaneous  being,  as  it  is  performed  mechanically  :  the  motive  power  is 
immediately  impressed  by  the  Creator,  who  is  the  only  mover,  as  well  as  the  first  mover. 
How  adorable  is  this  condescension !  the  Creator  exerts  his  power  in  consequence  of  the 
spontaneity  of  his  living  creatures  !  But  is  not  this  low  work  for  the  supreme  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  says  the  mechanical  reasoner  ?  No.  Lowness  of  work  is  not  applicable  to  the 
Creator  of  all  things.  He  is  as  much  the  Creator  of  the  meanest  insect,  as  of  the  highest 
intelligence.  It  is  his  perpetual  power,  exerted  in  cohesion,  that  keeps  all  the  parts  of  matter 
in  the  bodies  of  living  creatures  together.  Philosophy  cannot  be  hurt  by  admitting  his  power 
His  omnipotence  is  displayed  to  our  senses  in  the  most  despicable  weed  of  the  field  as  well 
as  in  the  bright  rolling  orbs  of  heaven.  In  calling  such  things  low  work,  we  forget  what 
infinite  power  implies,  and  what  infinite  goodness  prompts. 

t  Should  it  be  asked,  why  was  such  an  intricate  structure  of  such  materials  employed,  or 
such  a  laborious  method  contrived,  by  the  organization  of  dead  matter,  if  it  no  way  serves 
to  produce  motion,  but  rather  consumes  the  force  impressed  ?  the  answer  is,  that  this  consuming 
mechanism  is  no  inconvenience  in  nature,  if  we  consider  who  renews  the  motive  power.  We 
are  forced  to  be  frugal  of  our  little  power  :  but  this  is  not  applicable  to  the  Deity.  The  govern- 
ing power  of  the  Deity  is  creating  power.  Beings  made  up  of  matter  and  spirit  require  such 
a  supplying  power,  and  in  the  various  work  God  instructs  his  rational  beings,  and  displays 
his  omnipotence  in  wisdom  and  action. 


86  THE  LIFE  OF 


existence  of  a  Deity,  obvious  to  all,  and  carrying  irresistible  con- 
viction with  it,  is  from  the  evident  contrivance  and  fitness  of 
things  to  one  another,  which  we  meet  with  through  all  the  parts 
of  the  universe.  There  is  no  need  of  nice  and  subtile  reasoning 
in  this  matter  ;  a  manifest  contrivance  immediately  suggests  a 
contriver.  It  strikes  like  a  sensation  and  artful  reasonings 
against  it  may  puzzle  us,  but  it  is  without  shaking  our  belief.  No 
person,  for  example,  who  knows  the  principles  of  optics,  and  the 
structure  of  the  eye,  can  believe  that  it  is  formed  without  skill  in 
that  science  ;  or  that  the  ear  was  formed  without  the  knowledge 
of  sounds.  This  is  a  just  argument,  and  forces  our  assent.  But 
the  great  M'Laurin  should  not  have  stop'd  here.  The  plain 
argument  for  the  existence  of  a  Deity  grows  stronger,  when  we 
add  to  it  what  is  evident  as  divine  contrivance,  to  wit,  the  constant 
interposition  of  God,  to  support  and  move  his  creatures.  Original 
contrivance  in  the  works  of  the  creation  is  adorable.  We  are 
certain,  demonstratively  certain,  that  the  heavens,  the  land,  and 
the  waters,  and  all  the  creatures  in  them  contained,  are  the  works 
of  the  living  God  ;  but  it  is  the  present  performance  that  strikes 
us  like  a  sensation.  With  inexpressible  pleasure  we  see  creating 
power  with  our  eyes.  Which  ever  way  we  turn  them,  we  behold 
Almighty  Power  employed,  and  continually  acting  under  the 
direction  of  infinite  knowledge. 

Since  things  are  so,  and  all  the  works  of  nature,  in  the  common 
voice  of  reason,  declare  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Creator,  and 
speak  his  goodness  in  the  innumerable  mighty  things  he  con- 
tinually performs  for  our  preservation  and  happiness,  the  con- 
templation of  them  should  warm  our  hearts  with  the  glory  of  the 
Almighty,  and  make  us  continually  praise  and  adore  that  Almighty 
providence,  which  formed  and  sustains  not  only  the  human  race 
and  this  terrestrial  globe,  but  numberless  other  worlds  and  their 
inhabitants,  that  hang  in  infinite  space.  These  mighty  things 
displayed,  ought  surely  to  produce  the  most  devout  prayers,  and 
songs  of  praises  in  no  common  strain  ;  and  especially,  if  we  add 
to  those  works  of  nature,  that  second  creation,  the  still  greater 
work  of  grace.  Such  omnipotence  in  wisdom  and  action,  and  such 
amazing  goodness  as  we  see  in  the  Christian  gospel,  should, 
I  think,  engage  us  to  love  and  adore  so  great  and  good  a 
Being  as  our  Creator,  and  induce  us  to  devote  our  lives  to 
him. 

For  my  part,  when  I  consider  the  mighty  scene  and  prospect 
of  nature,  and  turn  my  thoughts  from  thence  to  God's  word,  that 
heavenly  law,  which  directs  our  will  and  informs  our  reason  and 
teaches  us  in  all  things  how  to  pursue  our  own  happiness,  I  am  so 
struck  with  a  sense  of  infinite  wisdom,  goodness,  and  action,  that 
I  cannot  help  extolling  the  king  of  the  universe  for  the  greatness 
of  his  power  and  mercy,  and  am  necessarily  engaged  in  a  scene 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  87 

of  praise  and  devotion.  Indeed  the  heart  must  be  as  hard  and 
cold  as  marble,  that  does  not  glow,  nor  is  inflamed  with  adoration 
to  the  great  author  of  all  things  ;  after  viewing  with  attention 
even  one  particular  only  in  the  works  of  nature,  that  material 
sun,  which  now*  shines  out  with  light  and  beauty  to  animate  and 
refresh  the  world  ;  and  in  the  creation  of  grace,  that  sun  of 
righteousness,  who  sheds  forth  the  choicest  blessings  of  Heaven 
upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.  Can  we  be  silent,  who  behold 
and  enjoy  those  things  !  alas  !  too  many  can.  Neither  the 
heavens,  which  declare  the  glory  of  God,  nor  the  days  of  the  gospel, 
nor  the  righteousness  of  the  new  law  are  regarded  by  them.  But 
the  wise  will  ever  join  with  all  their  hearts,  in  the  most  exalted 
prayer  and  praise,  and  adore  the  giver  of  those  good  and  perfect 
gifts  ;  for  all  his  blessings  vouchsafed  us  ;  and  especially,  for  the 
charter  of  his  pardon  granted  by  his  blessed  Son,  and  the  promises 
of  everlasting  happiness  and  glory  in  a  life  to  come,  reason  must 
declare  it  just  to  offer  up  religious  praise,  and  make  the  greatest 
mental  and  moral  improvement  we  can  in  this  first  state. 

Another  extraordinary  thing  I  saw  in  the  place  I  have  men- 
tioned, was  a  water  on  the  top  of  a  hill,  which  stood  at  the  other 
end  of  the  lake,  and  was  full  as  high  as  the  mountain,  from  the 
side  of  which  the  water  poured  into  the  lake.  This  loch  measured 
three  quarters  of  a  mile  in  length,  and  half  a  mile  over.  The 
water  appeared  as  black  as  ink,  but  in  a  glass  it  was  clear  as 
other  water,  and  bright  in  running  down.  It  tasted  sweet  and 
good.  At  one  end,  it  runs  over  its  rocky  bank,  and  in  several  noisy 
cascades,  falls  down  the  face  of  the  mountain  to  a  deep  bottom, 
where  a  river  is  formed,  that  is  seen  for  a  considerable  way,  as  it 
wanders  along.  The  whole  is  a  striking  scene.  The  swarthy  loch, 
the  noisy  descending  streams,  clumps  of  aged  trees  on  the  moun- 
tain's side,  and  the  various  shores  and  vallies  below,  afford  an 
uncommon  view.  It  was  a  fine  change  of  ground,  to  ascend  from 
the  beautiful  lake,  encompassed  with  mountains,  and  adorned 
with  trees,  into  which  was  poured  from  a  gaping  precipice,  a  tor- 
rent of  streams  ;  and  see  from  the  reverse  of  an  opposite  hill,  an 
impetuous  flood  descending  from  the  top  to  the  finest  points  of 
view  in  the  wildest  glens  below. 

What  line  I  had  with  me,  for  experiments  on  waters  and  holes, 
I  applied  to  this  loch,  to  discover  the  depth,  but  with  three  hun- 
dred yards  of  whipcord  my  lead  could  reach  no  ground,  and  from 
thence,  and  the  blackness  of  the  water,  and  the  great  issuing 
stream,  I  concluded,  justly  I  think,  that  it  went  down  to  the  great 
abyss,  the  vast  treasury  of  waters  within  the  earth.  Many  such 
unfathomable  lochs  as  this  have  I  seen  on  the  summits  of  moun- 
tains in  various  parts  of  the  world,  and  from  them,  I  suppose,  the 
greatest  part  of  that  deluge  of  waters  came  that  drowned  the  old 
world.  This  leads  me  to  say  something  of  the  flood. 


88  THE  LIFE  OF 


Many  books  have  been  written  in  relation  to  this  affair,  and 
while  some  contend  for  the  overflowing  of  the  whole  earth  to  a 
very  great  height  of  waters,  and  some  for  a  partial  deluge  only, 
others  will  not  allow  there  was  any  at  all.  The  divine  authority 
of  Moses  they  disregard.  For  my  part  I  believe  the  flood  was 
universal,  and  that  all  the  high  hills  and  mountains  under  the  whole 
heaven,  were  covered.  The  cause  was  forty  days  heavy  rain,  and 
such  an  agitation  of  the  abyss,  by  the  finger  of  God,  as  not  only 
broke  up  the  great  deep,  to  pour  out  water  at  many  places,  but 
forced  it  out  of  such  bottomless  lochs  as  this  I  am  speaking  of  on 
the  mountain's  top,  and  from  various  swallows  in  many  places. 
This  removes  every  objection  from  the  case  of  the  deluge,  and 
gives  water  enough  in  the  space  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  days, 
or  five  months  of  thirty  days  each,  to  over- top  the  highest  moun- 
tains by  fifteen  cubits,  the  height  designed.  The  abyss  in  strong 
commotion,  or  violent  uproar,  by  a  power  divine,  could  shake  the 
incumbent  globe  to  pieces  in  a  few  minutes,  and  bury  the  whole 
ruins  in  the  deep.  To  me,  then,  all  the  reasoning  against  the 
deluge,  or  for  a  partial  flood  appear  sad  stuff.  Were  this  one  loch 
in  Stanemore  to  pour  out  torrents  of  water,  down  every  side,  for 
five  months,  by  a  divine  force  on  part  of  the  abyss,  as  it  might 
very  easily,  by  such  means  do,  the  inundation  would  cover  a  great 
part  of  this  land  ;  and  if  from  every  loch  of  the  kind  on  the  sum  - 
mits  of  mountains,  the  waters  in  like  manner,  with  the  greatest 
violence,  flowed  from  every  side  out  of  the  abyss,  and  that  ex- 
clusive of  the  heavy  rains,  an  earthquake  should  open  some  parts 
of  the  ground  to  let  more  water  out  of  the  great  collection,  and 
the  seas  and  oceans  surpass  their  natural  bounds,  by  the  winds 
forcing  them  over  the  earth,  then  would  a  universal  flood  very 
soon  prevail.  There  is  water  enough  for  the  purpose,  and  as  to 
the  supernatural  ascent  of  them,  natural  and  supernatural  are 
nothing  at  all  different  with  respect  to  God.  They  are  distinctions 
merely  in  our  conceptions  of  things.  Regularly  to  move  the  sun 
or  earth  ;  and  to  stop  its  motion  for  a  day  ;  to  make  the  waters 
that  covered  the  whole  earth  at  the  creation,  descend  into  the 
several  receptacles  prepared  for  them  ;  and  at  the  deluge  to  make 
them  ascend  again  to  cover  the  whole  earth,  are  the  effect  of  one 
and  the  same  almighty  Power  ;  though  we  call  one  natural,  and 
the  other  supernatural.  The  one  is  the  effect  of  no  greater  power 
than  the  other.  With  respect  to  God,  one  is  not  more  or  less 
natural  or  supernatural  than  the  other. 

But  how  the  waters  of  the  deluge  were  drawn  off  at  the  end  of 
the  five  months,  is  another  question  among  the  learned.  The 
ingenious  Keill,  who  wrote  against  the  two  ingenious  theorists 
says  the  thing  is  not  at  all  accountable  in  any  natural  way  ; 
the  draining  off,  and  drying  of  the  earth,  of  such  a  huge  column 
of  waters  could  only  be  effected  by  the  power  of  God  :  natural 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  89 

causes  both  in  decrease  and  the  increase  of  the  waters  must  have 
been  vastly  disproportionate  to  the  effects  ;  and  to  miracles  they 
must  be  ascribed.  This,  I  think,  is  as  far  from  the  truth,  as  the 
theorists  ascribing  both  increase  and  decrease  to  natural  causes. 
God  was  the  performer  to  be  sure  in  the  flood  and  the  going  off, 
but  he  made  use  of  natural  causes  in  both,  that  is,  of  the  things 
he  had  in  the  beginning  created.  The  natural  causes  he  is  the 
author  of  were  at  hand,  and  with  them  he  could  do  the  work. 
The  sun  evaporated  ;  the  winds  dried  ;  and  the  waters  no  longer 
forced  upwards  from  the  abyss,  subsided  into  the  many  swallows 
or  swallow-holes,  that  are  still  to  be  seen  in  many  places,  on 
mountains  and  in  vallies  ;  those  on  the  mountains  being  necessary 
to  absorb  that  vast  column  of  waters  which  rose  fifteen  cubits 
above  the  highest  hills. 

A  swallow  is  such  another  opening  in  the  ground  as  Eldine  Hole 
in  Derbyshire,*  and  in  travelling  from  the  Peak  to  the  northern 
extremity  of  Northumberland,  I  have  seen  many  such  holes  in 
the  earth,  both  on  the  hills  and  in  the  vales.  I  have  likewise  met 
with  them  in  other  countries.  By  these  swallows,  a  vast  quantity 
of  the  waters  to  be  sure  went  down  to  the  great  receptacle  ;  all 
that  was  not  exhaled,  or  licked  up  by  the  winds  ;  or,  except  what 
might  be  left  to  increase  the  former  seas  of  the  antediluvian  world 
into  those  vast  oceans  which  now  encompass  the  globe,  and 
partly  to  form  those  vast  lakes  that  are  in  several  parts  of  the 
world.  These  things  easily  account  for  the  removal  of  that  vast 
mass  of  waters  which  covered  the  earth,  and  was  in  a  mighty 
column  above  the  highest  hills.  Every  difficulty  disappears 
before  evaporation,  the  drying  winds,  the  swallows,  and  perhaps 
the  turning  seas  into  oceans  ;  but  the  three  first  things  now  named 
were  sufficient,  and  the  gentlemen  who  have  reasoned  so  ingeni- 
ously against  one  another  about  the  removal  of  the  waters,  might 
have  saved  themselves  a  deal  of  trouble,  if  they  had  reduced  the 
operation  to  three  simple  things,  under  the  direction  of  the  first 
cause.  The  swallows  especially  must  do  great  work  in  the  case, 
if  we  take  into  their  number  not  only  very  many  open  gulphs  or 
chasms,  the  depth  of  which  no  line  or  sound  can  reach  ;  but  like- 
wise the  communications  of  very  many  parts  of  the  sea,  and  of 
many  great  unfathomable  lochs,  with  the  abyss.  These  absorbers 
could  easily  receive  what  had  before  come  out  of  them.  The  sun 

*  Eldine-Hole  in  Derbyshire  is  a  mile  south  of  Mamtorr,  and  four  miles  east  of  Buxton.  It 
is  a  perpendicular  gulph  or  chasm,  which  I  tried  to  fathom  more  than  once,  and  sound  it  by 
my  line,  and  by  the  measure  of  sound  at  the  rate  of  sixteen  feet  one  twelfth  in  one  second, 
the  measure  Dr.  Halley  allows  near  the  earth  for  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies ;  to  be  one 
thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty-six  feet,  or  four  hundred  and  twenty-two  yards  down  to 
the  water  ;  but  how  deep  the  water  is  cannot  be  known.  I  suppose  it  reaches  to  the  abyss. 
This  chasm  is  forty  yards  long  above  ground,  and  ten  over  at  its  broadest  part :  but  from 
the  day  there  is  a  sloping  descent  of  forty  yards  to  the  mouth  of  the  horrible  pit,  and  this 
is  only  four  yards  long  and  one  and  a  half  broad.  Two  villains  who  were  executed  at  Derby 
not  long  ago,  confessed  at  the  gallows,  that  they  threw  a  poor  traveller  into  this  dreadful 
gulph,  after  they  had  robbed  him. 


90  THE  LIFE  OF 


by  evaporation,  with  the  wind,  might  take  away  what  was  raised . 
There  is  nothing  hard  then  in  conceiving  how  the  waters  of  the 
deluge  were  brought  away. 

But  as  to  the  lake  I  have  mentioned,  into  which  a  rapid  flood 
poured  from  the  bowels  of  the  mountain,  what  became  of  this 
water  the  reader  may  enquire.  To  be  sure,  as  it  did  not  run'off 
in  any  streams,  nor  make  the  lake  rise  in  the  least  degree,  there 
must  have  been  a  communication  in  some  parts  of  its  bottom, 
between  the  water  of  it  and  the  abyss.  As  the  loch  on  the  top 
of  the  mountain  I  have  described  had  no  feeders,  yet  emitted 
streams,  and  therefore  must  be  supported  by  the  abyss  ;  so  this 
lake,  with  so  powerful  a  feeder,  not  running  over,  or  emitting 
water  any  way,  must  discharge  itself  in  the  abyss  below.  The 
case  of  it  must  be  the  same  as  that  of  the  Caspian  Sea.  In  to  this 
sea  many  rivers  pour,  and  one  in  particular,  the  Volga  I  mean, 
that  is  more  than  sufficient,  in  the  quantity  of  water  it  turns  out 
in  a  year,  to  drown  the  whole  world.  Yet  the  Caspian  remains 
in  one  state,  and  does  not  overflow  its  banks,  excepting,  as  before 
observed,  sometimes  in  the  space  of  sixteen  years.  It  must  by 
passages  communicate  with  the  great  deep.  It  refunds  the  rivers 
into  the  great  abyss.  The  case  of  the  Mediterranean  sea  is  the 
same  ;  for,  though  a  strong  current  from  the  Atlantic  continually 
sets  through  the  Strait  of  Gibraltar,  yet  these  waters  do  not  make 
it  overflow  the  country  round  it,  and,  of  consequence,  they  must 
be  carried  off  by  a  subterranean  passage,  or  passages,  to  the  abyss. 

From  the  lake  I  proceeded  the  next  morning,  June  14,  1725, 
toward  the  north-east  end  of  Westmoreland,  having  passed  the 
night  in  a  sound  sleep  under  the  trees  by  the  water-side,  but  was 
forced  by  the  precipices  to  shape  my  course  from  four  in  the 
morning  till  eight,  to  the  north-west,  and  then^the  road  turned 
east-north-east,  till  I  came  to  a  great  glen,  where  a  river  made  a 
rumbling  noise  over  rocks  and  inequalities  of  many  kinds,  and 
formed  a  very  wild,  wonderful  scene.  The  river  was  broad  and 
deep,  and  on  an  easy  descent  to  it,  was  an  assemblage  of  stones, 
that  ran  in  length  about  a  hundred  feet,  in  breadth  thirty  feet, 
and  somewhat  resembling  the  Giant's  Causeway,  in  the  county  of 
Antrim,  and  province  of  Ulster,  in  Ireland  ;  nine  miles  north-east 
from  the  pretty  town  of  Colerain.  The  Giant's  Causeway,  reader, 
is  a  prodigious  pile  of  rocks,  eighty  feet  broad,  twenty  feet  above 
the  rest  of  the  strand,  and  that  run  from  the  bottom  of  a  high  hill 
above  two  hundred  yards  into  the  ocean. 

The  assemblage  of  stones  I  am  speaking  of  are  columns  with 
several  corners,  that  rise  three  yards  above  the  ground  and  are 
joined  as  if  done  by  art ;  the  points  being  convex  and  concave, 
and  thereby  lying  one  in  another.  These  columns  have  five  and 
six  sides,  a  few  of  them  seven  ;  and  a  number  of  them  nicely  and 
exactly  placed  together  make  one  large  pillar  from  one  foot  to 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  91 

two  in  diameter.  They  are  so  nicely  joined,  that  although  they 
have  five  and  six  sides,  as  I  before  said,  yet  their  contexture  is  so 
adapted,  as  to  leave  no  vacuity  between  them  ;  the  prominent 
angles  of  one  pillar  fitting,  and  falling  exactly  into  the  hollows 
left  them  between  two  others,  and  the  plain  sides  exactly  answer 
to  one  another  ;  so  that  those  hexagons  and  pentagons  of  columnar 
marble  appear  as  if  finished  by  the  hands  of  the  most  masterly 
workmen.  All  the  pillars  stood  exactly  perpendicular  to  the  plane 
of  the  horizon. 

Doctor  Foley,  in  No.  212,  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions, 
speaking  of  the  Giant's  Causeway,  seems  to  think  these  wonderful 
pillars  are  composed  of  the  common  sort  of  craggy  rock  by  the 
sea  side  ;  and  the  authors  of  the  Complete  System  of  Geography 
are  of  opinion,  they  resemble  the  lapis  basaltes  ;  but  some  think 
they  are  a  sort  of  marble.  Now  the  truth  is,  the  basaltes  of  the 
antients  is  a  very  elegant  and  beautiful  marble  of  a  fine  deep 
glossy  black,  like  high  polished  steel,  and  is  always  found  erect 
in  the  form  of  regular  angular  columns,  composed  of  a  number  of 
joints,  fitted  together,  and  making  pillars  ;  so  that  where  such 
pillars  are  seen,  they  are  undoubtedly  the  columnar  marble,  or 
touch-stone  of  the  antients.  Dr.  John  Hill,  in  his  History  of 
Fossils,  gives  a  good  account  of  the  nature  of  this  body,  and  men- 
tions several  places  it  is  to  be  found  in  ;  but  seems  not  to  have 
heard  there  was  any  of  it  among  the  northern  mountains  of  our 
country. 

This  marble  is  one  of  the  noblest  productions  of  nature,  and  of 
all  the  fossil  kingdom,  the  most  astonishing  body.  If  art  is 
requisite  for  the  formation  of  many  things  we  see  daily  done  with 
elegance  and  beauty  ;  then  certainly,  mind  itself,  even  the  su- 
preme mind,  must  have  caused  such  effects  as  these  astonishing 
marble  pillars ;  which  lie  in  vast  compound  perpendicular 
columns  at  great  depths  in  the  earth,  none  being  in  beds  of  strata, 
like  the  other  marbles  ;  and  rise  in  such  beautiful  joints  and  angles, 
well  fitted  together,  more  than  six  and  thirty  feet  above  ground 
in  some  places.  No  other  way  could  those  wonderful  productions 
have  come  into  being,  but  by  that  intelligent,  active  power,  who 
speaks  intelligibly  to  every  nation  by  his  works.  To  talk  as  some 
people  do,  that  necessity,  which  destroys  the  very  idea  of  intel- 
ligent and  designing  activity,  or  chance — which  is  an  utter 
absurdity — or  the  sea,  according  to  Telliamed,  generated  and 
formed  this  genus  of  marble,  and  so  wonderfully  distinguished  it 
from  all  the  other  marmora  ;  by  making  it  into  pentagon,  hexagon 
and  septagon  columns,  and  rendering  the  points  of  the  columns  con- 
vex and  concave,  and  so  amazingly  joining  them  together,  that  the 
prominent  angles  of  one  pillar  fall  exactly  into  the  hollow  left  be- 
tween two  others,  and  the  plain  sides  exactly  answer  to  one  another, 
as  before  observed,  while  all  of  them  stand  up  perpendicular, 


92  THE  LIFE  OF 


contrary  to  the  quality  of  all  other  marbles,  and  some  lie  in  beds 
of  strata.  To  talk  I  say  of  the  sea,  a  chance,  a  necessity,  doing 
this,  or  any  thing  of  so  wonderful  a  kind  is  to  produce  schemes 
founded  in  ignorance,  and  eversive  of  true  knowledge,  instead  of 
giving  a  rational,  intelligible  account  of  the  formation  of  the  world, 
its  order  and  appearances.  In  this  wonderful  production,  a  due 
attention  perceives  infinite  art  and  power.  Did  we  want  that 
variety  of  things  which  employ  the  consideration  of  rational  men, 
and  force  the  tongues  of  thinking  men  to  acknowledge  creating 
power,  this  marble  alone  would  be  sufficient  to  demonstrate  equal 
power  directed  by  infinite  wisdom. 

Another  extraordinary  thing  I  saw  in  a  valley  not  far  from  that 
where  the  basaltes  stands,  is  a  boisterous  burning  spring.  It  rises 
with  great  noise  and  vibration,  and  gushes  out  with  a  force  suf- 
ficient to  turn  many  mills.  The  water  is  clear  and  cold,  but  to 
the  taste  unpleasant,  being  something  like  a  bad  egg.  I  judged 
from  the  nature  of  its  motion  that  the  water  would  take  fire, 
and  having  lit  my  torch,  soon  put  it  in  a  flame.  The  fire  was 
fierce,  and  the  water  ran  down  the  vale  in  a  blaze.  It  was  a  river 
of  fire  for  a  considerable  way,  till  it  sunk  under  ground  among 
some  rocks,  and  thereby  disappeared.  After  it  had  burned  some 
time,  I  took  some  boughs  from  a  tree,  and  tying  them  together, 
beat  the  surface  of  the  well  for  a  few  minutes,  and  the  burning 
ceased.  The  water  was  not  hot,  as  one  might  expect,  but  cold 
as  the  coldest  spring  could  be.  There  are  a  great  number  of  such 
springs  in  the  world,  but  this  is  the  largest  I  have  read  of,  or  seen. 
It  differs  from  that  of  Broseley  in  Shropshire,  within  six  miles  of 
Bridge-north,  in  this  respect,  that  Broseley-well  will  not  continue 
to  burn  for  any  time,  unless  the  air  be  kept  from  it ;  to  which 
purpose  they  have  enclosed  it  in  an  iron  cistern  with  a  cover  to 
it ;  and  to  experiment  the  boiling  a  piece  of  meat  by  the  fire  of 
this  spring,  they  clap  the  pot  close  down  when  the  cover  is  taken 
up,  and  then  it  burns  as  long  as  they  will ;  making  the  largest 
joint  of  meat  fit  to  eat  in  half  the  time  the  strongest  culinary  fire 
could  do  the  work.  As  to  the  medicinal  virtues  of  the  spring,  in 
the  mountains,  I  can  only  say,  that  as  it  has  a  copious  sulphur, 
and  from  thence  flames  like  a  spirit  of  wine,  it  is  probable  it  might 
be  as  effectual  in  communicating  sanity  in  various  cases,  as  the 
famous  burning  spring  is  in  the  palatinate  of  Cracow  of  the  lesser 
Poland  mentioned  in  the  Leipsic  Acts,  for  1684,  p.  326.  And  as 
to  the  extinguishing  this  fire  by  beating  it  with  twigs,  it  must  be 
for  the  reason  given  by  Mr.  Denis,  that  as  the  inflammability  of 
such  springs  is  to  be  ascribed  to  sulphur,  and  to  its  exhalations 
bursting  out  of  the  water  ;  so  this  floating  flame,  which  is  too 
subtle  to  heat  the  water,  is  stifled,  by  involving  these  spirits  in 
the  aqueous  particles,  by  brushing  the  surface  with  brooms. 
\.  Conradus  tells  us,  concerning  the  Polish  spring,  that  at  one 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  93 

time,  when  it  was  kindled  by  lightning,  the  people  neglected  to 
put  it  out  and  the  stream  proceeded  on  fire  for  almost  three 
years,  and  reduced  all  the  neighbouring  wood  to  ashes.  It  is 
really  a  wonderful  sight  to  see  such  a  river  of  fire,  and  adorable 
must  be  that  power,  who  has  caused  such  things.  To  say  that 
matter  and  motion  circumscribe  and  regulate  such  powers,  is  idle 
to  the  last  degree.  It  is  an  inversion  of  reason.  The  very  exist- 
ence of  the  water  and  sulphur  of  this  spring,  must  be  by  the 
power  of  the  Creator  constantly  put  forth  upon  it,  which  causes 
the  parts  to  be  what  we  call  such  things  ;  and  the  motion  of  both 
must  be  an  impression  ;  for  motion  is  not  essential  to  matter. 
Nothing  else  could  produce  them,  and  a  cause  there  must  be 
equal  to  the  various  and  wonderful  effects  of  both,  a  cause  that 
is  infinity,  wise  and  powerful.  The  Deity  is  every  where  present, 
and  every  where  active.  His  power  is  indesinently  working, 
gives  existence  to  the  various  creatures  and  produces  the  most 
noble  phenomena  in  nature.  All  we  see,  all  we  feel,  fire  and 
water,  the  universal  variety  of  inanimate  and  animate  creatures, 
are  only  the  effects  of  his  creating  power  constantly  repeated. 
The  existence  of  the  whole  world  is  a  continual  new  creation  ;  and 
therefore  it  becomes  the  bounden  duty  of  all  rational  creatures, 
to  worship  this  Almighty  Power,  as  well  for  his  works  of  creation, 
as  for  the  ways  of  his  providence.  Great  and  wonderful  are  thy 
works,  O  Lord  God  Almighty  !  and  just  and  righteous  are  thy 
ways,  O  King  of  saints  :  who  would  not  fear  thee,  O  Lord,  and 
glorify  thy  name,  because  thou  art  holy. 

From  the  burning  fountain  we  proceeded  for  half  an  hour  in 
the  same  valley  right  onwards,  and  then  turned  to  the  left  in  a 
course  to  the  west,  for  about  a  mile,  which  brought  us  to  the 
bottom  of  a  steep  mountain,  we  must  ascend,  or  go  no  farther. 
It  was  hard  to  get  the  horses  over  this,  and  no  less  difficult  to 
descend  with  them  to  a  deep  bottom  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  : 
but  with  great  hazard  to  ourselves  and  the  beasts,  we  came  down 
in  safety.  On  the  top  of  this  mountain  I  saw  another  large  loch 
that  was  black  as  ink  in  appearance,  though  bright  when  taken 
up  in  a  glass  ;  which  as  before  observed,  must  be  owing  I  suppose 
to  its  top  communicating  with  the  abyss  below  ;  and  in  the  bot- 
tom we  descend  to,  there  was  a  swallow  larger  than  the  one  I  saw 
before.  I  could  make  no  discovery  as  to  its  depth,  either  by 
line  or  sound  ;  nor  did  my  lead  touch  any  water.  On  the  sloping 
way  from  the  first  chasm  in  day  to  the  gulph,  were  several  lateral 
chambers,  that  descended  one  yard  in  six  ;  but  though  the  bottom 
was  hard,  the  horrors  of  the  places  hindered  me  from  going  far. 
I  went  to  the  end  of  the  first,  which  was  sixty  seven  yards,  and 
having  looked  into  the  second,  to  which  a  narrow  short  pass  leads 
enquirer,  I  made  what  haste  I  could  back  ;  for  the  opening 
discovers  a  space  so  vast,  dismal,  and  frightful,  that  it  strike  one 


94  THE  LIFE  OF 


to  the  heart.  The  bottom,  as  far  as  my  light  could  enable  me  to 
distinguish,  was  a  continuance  of  stone  ;  but  neither  top  nor 
sides  were  to  be  seen.  It  is  a  horrible  place. 

Leaving  this  bottom,  we  mounted  another  very  high  and  dan- 
gerous hill,  and  from  the  top  of  it  descended  into  twenty  acres  of 
as  rich  and  beautiful  ground  as  my  eyes  had  ever  seen.  It  was 
covered  with  flowers  and  aromatic  herbs  ;  and  had,  in  the  centre 
of  it,  a  little  grove  of  beautiful  trees  ;  among  which  were  fruits 
of  several  kinds.  A  flowing  spring  of  the  purest  water  was  in  the 
middle  of  this  sweet  little  wood,  and  ran  in  pretty  windings  over 
the  ground.  It  refreshed  and  adorned  the  field,  and  it  was  beau- 
tiful to  see  the  deer  from  the  hills,  and  the  goats  come  down  from 
the  cliffs,  to  drink  at  these  streams.  The  whole  was  surrounded 
with  precipices  that  ascended  above  the  clouds,  and  through  one 
of  these  rocky  mountains  there  was  an  opening  that  had  a  stupen- 
dous appearance. 

It  was  a  vast  amazing  arch,  that  had  some  resemblance  of  the 
Gothic  aisle  of  a  large  cathedral  church,  and  terminated  in  a  view 
of  rocks  hanging  over  rocks  in  a  manner  frightful  to  behold.  It 
measured  an  hundred  yards  in  length,  forty  in  breadth,  and  I 
judged  it  to  be  fifty  yards  high.  The  pending  rocks  in  view 
inclosed  a  space  of  four  acres,  as  it  appeared  to  me,  and  the  bottom 
was  so  very  deep  that  it  looked  like  night  below.  What  line  I 
had  could  not  reach  it,  nor  could  I  make  any  thing  of  the  depth 
by  sound.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  vast  swallow  that  went  down 
to  the  abyss.  The  whole  was  a  scene  that  harrowed  the  soul  with 
horror. 

By  the  spring  in  the  little  grove  I  have  mentioned,  I  sat  down 
at  eight  in  the  morning,  to  breakfast  on  something  that  one  of 
my  squires  produced  from  his  store,  while  the  other  was  looking 
for  a  passage  or  way  onwards,  between  those  vast  precipices  that 
surrounded  us.  Two  hours  he  wasted  in  an  enquiry,  and  then 
returned,  to  let  me  know  there  was  no  passage  that  he  could  find  : 
the  enclosed  rocks  were  one  continued  chain  of  impassable  moun- 
tains. Here  then  I  thought  was  my  ne  plus  ultra.  As  the  man 
affirmed  there  was  no  getting  beyond  the  vast  inclosing  cliffs  that 
walled  in  this  charming  spot  of  earth,  I  imagined  for  some  time, 
thatljmust  of  necessity  return,  and  give  over  all  thoughts  of  getting 
to  the  borders  of  Cumberland  or  Bishopric  that  way.  It  seemed 
impossible  to  proceed,  and  that  was  no  small  trouble  to  my  mind. 
It  was  a  great  journey  round,  and  if  I  did  ride  it,  I  knew  not 
where  to  turn  in  on  the  confines  of  the  country  my  friend  lived  on  ; 
for  I  had  lost  his  directions,  and  had  only  a  small  remembrance 
of  his  dwelling  somewhere  on  the  north  edge  of  Westmoreland  or 
Yorkshire,  or  on  the  adjoining  borders  of  Cumberland,  or  the 
county  of  Durham.  What  to  do  I  could  not  for  some  time  tell : 
going  back  I  did  not  at  all  like,  and  therefore,  to  avoid  it  if  pos- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  95 

sible,  resolved  to  pass  the  day  in  trying  if  I  could  find  my  way  out, 
without  climbing  the  mountain  again  that  I  had  lately  come  down. 
Round  then  I  walked,  once,  and  to  no  manner  of  purpose,  for  I 
did  not  see  any  kind  of  pass  ;  but  the  second  time,  as  I  marched 
on  observing  the  hill,  I  took  notice  of  a  large  clump  of  great  trees 
in  an  angle  or  deep  corner,  that  seemed  to  stand  very  oddly,  and 
in  the  mountain  above  them  there  appeared  as  I  thought  a  distance 
or  space  that  looked  like  an  opening.  I  soon  found  it  was  so, 
and  that  at  the  back  of  this  little  wood,  there  lay  a  very  narrow 
way,  only  broad  enough  for  two  horses  a-breast  :  that  it  extended 
due  west  for  more  than  a  mile,  and  then  west  north  west 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  till  it  terminated  in  a  plain  that  was 
several  miles  in  circumference,  and  intirely  surrounded  with 
hills.  This  I  discovered  in  walking  the  pass  by  myself,  and  then 
returned  to  bring  the  horses  and  men,  through  this  amazing  way. 
It  was  quite  dark,  mere  night  all  along  ;  and  the  bottom  very 
bad.  It  was  likewise  very  dangerous.  It  was  evident  from  the 
ground  that  stones  had  fallen  from  the  tops  of  the  hills  ;  and  should 
any  descend  from  so  vast  a  height  on  us,  though  even  small  ones, 
they  would  without  all  peradventure  be  immediate  death. 

The  plain  we  came  into  from  the  defile,  was  above  a  mile  over 
to  the  opposite  hills,  and  across  it  was  a  walk  of  aged  oaks,  that 
seemed,  in  such  a  place,  as  the  avenue  that  leads  to  the  fairy 
castle  of  wishes.  If  there  are  such  things,  as  Dr.  Fowler,  bishop 
of  Gloucester,  hath  in  one  of  his  books  affirmed,  then  here,  I  said, 
in  this  fine  romantic  region,  where  all  the  charms  of  the  field,  the 
forest,  the  water,  and  the  mountains,  are  united,  may  be  their 
favourite  mansion,  and  perhaps  they  will  admit  me  into  their 
fairy  castle,  then  commences  their  friendship,  and  when  they  have 
all  breathed  on  me,  it  is  but  wishing  for  the  future,  and  the  com- 
pletion of  every  desire  is  granted  the  moment  it  is  formed.  Would 
not  this  be  complete  happiness  ?  what  do  you  say,  Reflection  ?  J| 

"  No  !  "  answered  Reflection,  as  we  rode  up  this  avenue 
"  Imagination  may  form  fine  pictures  of  felicity  from  an  indul- 
gence in  every  wish  ;  but,  so  blind  are  mankind  to  their  own  real 
happiness,  that  it  is  oftener  to  the  gratification  than  to  the  dis- 
appointment of  their  wishes  that  all  their  misery  is  owing.  We 
often  choose  what  is  not  consonant  to  the  welfare  of  our  nature, 
and  strive  to  avoid  these  incidents  which  are  fated  in  the  order 
of  incontrollable  events  for  our  good.  Frequently  do  we  labour 
to  secure  the  things  that  debase  us  into  slaves,  and  overwhelm 
us  with  calamity  ;  but  seldom  do  we  desire,  rarely  do  we  strive 
to  obtain  those  objects,  and  acquire  that  station,  which  are  most 
likely  to  render  humanity  as  perfect  as  it  can  be  in  this  world, 
rational  and  godlike,  and  thereby  crown  our  lives  with  true  hap- 
piness. Many  a  man  has  pursued  a  Venus,  an  estate,  an  honour 
with  much  toil  and  wonderful  activity,  and  when  possessed  of  the 


96  THE  LIFE  OF 


fancied  blessing,  have  been  made  very  miserable  mortals.  The 
wished- for  beauty  has  often  made  even  the  husband  wretched. 
An  aching  scar  is  often  covered  with  the  laurel  :  and  in  respect 
of  envied  great  fortunes,  gaudy  is  the  thing  without,  and  within 
very  often  is  mere  bitterness.  The  wisdom  is  as  to  this  world, 
not  to  get  from  the  fairies  a  power  of  enjoying  all  that  fancy  may 
desire,  if  that  was  possible  ;  but,  to  act  well  and  wisely,  in  the 
most  reasonable,  lovely,  and  fair  manner,  and  propose  nothing 
of  ourselves,  but  with  a  reserve  that  supreme  wisdom  permits 
it  ;  welcoming  every  event  with  cheerfulness  and  magnanimity, 
as  best  upon  the  whole,  because  ordained  of  infinite  reason  ;  and 
acquiescing  in  every  obstruction,  as  ultimately  reservable  to 
divine  providence.  This,"  continued  Reflection,  "  in  respect  of 
this  life,  were  there  no  other,  is  preferable  to  the  castle  of  wishes, 
if  we  could  find  it  at  the  end  of  this  avenue*." 

But  if  another  life  is  taken  into  the  question,  the  argument 
grows  stronger  against  a  power  of  enjoying  all  we  could  wish  for, 
as  we  are  accountable  creatures,  and  are  pouring  fast  out  of  time 
into  eternity,  religion  undoubtedly  ought  to  be  the  main  business 
of  mortals  ;  that  religion  which  is  a  living  principle,  spring  or 
root  of  actions  in  the  soul ;  wrought  there  by  the  hand  of  him 
that  made  us  ;  and  which  requireth  us  to  honour  and  fear  God, 
as  the  supreme  Lord,  to  esteem  him  as  the  chief  good  ;  and  to 
exercise  and  express  that  honour,  that  fear,  and  that  esteem,  by 
all  the  means,  and  in  all  the  ways  which  reason  and  revelation 
appoint  for  such  exercise  and  expression  ;  that  we  may  gain  the 
love  of  the  Almighty,  and  obtain  the  established  seat  of  happiness 
above  :  but  such  force  hath  the  objects  of  sense  upon  the  mind, 
that  it  is  more  than  probable  they  would  outweigh  the  distant 
hopes  of  religion,  if  wishing  could  bring  in  even  a  tenth  part  of 
of  what  the  vanity  of  man,  and  his  senses  would  call  for.  It 
would  be  so  far  from  being  an  advantage  to  mankind,  if  they 
could  wish  and  have  vast  fortunes,  all  the  pleasures  and  pomps 
and  honours  of  the  world,  that  they  would  thereby  be  deprived 
of  the  rational  joys  of  life,  and  be  influenced  to  think  no  more  of 
the  excellency  and  beauty  of  religion,  and  the  good  consequences 
of  serving  God  truly.  They  would  not  even  divide  themselves 
between  this  world  and  the  other.  The  idol  gods  of  this  state 
would  have  all  their  service.  The  wish  then  should  be  for  daily 

*  In  the  second  volume  of  Familiar  Letters  between  the  Characters  in  David  Simp!e,the  reader 
will  find  an  excellent  story  in  relation  to  wishing,  which  the  ingenious  female  writer  calls 
'  a  Fragment  of  a  Fairy  Tale,'  in  the  conclusion  of  which  there  is  the  following  sensible 
observation  :  "The  good  Fairy  came  often  to  visit  me,  and  confirmed  me  in  my  resolution, 
never  again  to  be  so  unreasonable,  as  to  desire  to  have  all  my  wishes  completed ;  for  she 
convinced  me,  that  the  short-sighted  eyes  of  mortals  were  not  formed  to  see.  whether  the 
event  of  any  of  their  own  wishes  would  produce  most  happiness  or  misery :  and  that  our 
greatest  felicity,  often  arises  from  the  very  disappointment  of  those  desires,  the  gratification 
of  which,  at  the  first  view,  seems  to  be  necessary  to  our  welfare." — Familiar  Letters,  ut  supra 
1747,  8vo.  vol.  ii.  p.  225.  272. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  97 

bread  and  of  the  kingdom  of  God  may  come,  his  will  be  done  in  our 
souls.  In  these  are  comprised  the  greatest  and  most  valuable 
blessing,  and  we  are  sure  we  can  obtain  them,  if  we  will  add  to 
asking  an  industry  and  prudence  in  acquiring,  and  take  care  by 
culture,  to  bring  up  the  seeds  of  virtue  and  holiness.  This  is 
enough  to  make  us  as  happy  here  as  reason  can  desire.  We  have 
a  sufficiency  to  go  through  this  world  to  that  other  where  we  are 
to  be  stationed  for  ever,  and  against  the  accidents  of  the  way, 
we  have  the  supports  which  innocence  and  virtue  to  the  good 
administer.  Peace  and  tranquilli ty  of  mind  here,  and  hopes  full 
of  comfort  with  respect  to  hereafter,  are  the  ingredients  of  our 
happiness  ;  a  happiness  the  greatest  I  arid  we  are  certain  that  he 
upon  whose  mercy  and  goodness  we  confess  we  exist,  will,  in 
regard  to  our  confidence  and  trust,  our  faith  and  religion,  when 
this  fleeting  scene  is  over,  make  us  glorious  and  ever  blessed  in 
the  kingdom  he  has  prepared  for  those  that  rely  on  the  Divine 
Goodness,  and  do  their  best  to  advance  the  state  of  true  virtue 
in  the  world.  Let  us  not  regret,  then,  the  want  of  a  Castle  of 
Wishes.  Let  us  not  have  a  desire  of  that  wealth,  dominion,  and 
splendour,  which  lives  in  contempt  of  the  prophets,  and  riots  in 
the  heinous  pleasures  of  irreligion. 

Let  our  great  Master's  Will  be  made  the  rule  of  all  our  actions, 
and  let  his  interest  be  regarded,  as  our  interest.  Let  us  consult 
his  honour,  as  our  own  honour  ;  and  having  food  and  raiment, 
be  content,  as  we  are  hastening  away  with  a  never  ceasing  pace, 
to  the  realms  of  eternity  and  unmixed  bliss.  This  is  reason  and 
light.  This  only  deserves  our  care.  There  is  nothing  worth 
wishing  for,  but  the  happiness  of  God's  presence  in  our  hearts  ; 
and  the  more  immediate  communications  of  his  love  and  favour 
in  the  regions  of  day. 

Thus  did  Reflection  entertain  me,  as  I  rode  up  this  grand  shady 
walk,  which  looked  like  the  avenue  I  had  read  of  in  the  Tales  of 
the  Fairies,  and  brought  me  to  a  natural  grotto,  more  beautiful 
than  ^Elian's  description  of  Atalanta's,  or  that  in  Homer,  where 
Calypso  lived.  It  was  a  large  cavern  at  the  bottom  of  a  marble 
mountain,  and  without,  was  covered  round  with  ivy,  that  clung 
about  some  aged  oaks,  on  either  side  of  the  entrance,  that  seemed 
coeval  with  the  earth  on  which  they  grew.  Abundance  of  large 
laurel  trees,  in  clumps,  adorned  an  extensive  area  before  the  door  ; 
and  saffron,  and  hyacinths,  and  flowers  of  many  colours,  covered 
in  confused  spots  the  green  carpet.  The  beautiful  ground  re- 
freshed the  sight,  and  purified  the  air  ;  and  to  enhance  the  beauties 
of  the  spot,  a  clear  and  cold  stream  gushed  from  a  neighbouring 
rock  ;  which  watered  the  trees  and  plants,  and  seemed  to  combat 
with  the  earth,  whether  of  them  most  contributed  to  their  growth 
and  preservation.  It  was  a  sweet  rural  scene.  For  charms  and 
solitude  the  place  was  equally  to  be  admired. 


98  THE  LIFE  OF 


The  inside  of  this  grotto  was  a  beautiful  green  marble,  extremely 
bright,  and  even  approaching  to  the  appearance  of  the  emerald. 
It  was  thick  set  with  shells,  and  those  not  small  ones,  but  some 
of  the  largest  and  finest  kinds  :  many  of  them  seemed  as  it  were, 
squeezed  together  by  the  marble,  so  as  to  show  the  edges  only 
but  more  were  to  be  seen  at  large,  and  filled  with  the  purest  spar. 
The  whole  had  a  fine  effect,  and  as  the  cave  had  been  divided 
by  art  into  six  fine  apartments,  and  had  doors  and  chimneys 
most  ingeniously  contrived,  both  the  mansion  and  its  situation 
charmed  me  in  a  high  degree.  On  either  side  of  it  were  many 
cottages,  pretty  and  clean,  and  as  sheep  were  feeding  on  the 
field,  some  cows  grazing,  and  various  kinds  of  tame  fowl  before 
the  doors,  I  concluded  it  was  an  inhabited  place,  before  I  saw 
any  one. 

44.  The  first  human  being  I  beheld,  was  an  old  woman,  who 
appeared  at  the  grotto  door,  and  I  requested  her  to  inform  me, 
who  lived  in  this  delightful  place  ;  and  which  was  my  best  way 
to  Cumberland  or  Bishopric  ?  Sir,  replied  the  good  old  woman, 
you  are  welcome  to  Burcot  Lodge.  Women  only  are  the  inhabi- 
tants of  this  spot  :  and  over  the  hills  before  you,  you  must  go, 
to  get  to  the  countries  you  mention.  We  are  a  hundred  souls  in 
all  that  live  here,  and  our  mistress,  superior  and  head,  is  a  young 
woman.  Her  name  is  AZORA.  Yonder  she  comes,  goodness 
itself,  and  as  it  is  now  seven  in  the  evening,  too  late  to  proceed 
any  farther  in  this  part  of  the  world,  you  had  better  walk  up  to 
her,  and  pay  her  your  respects.  Great  was  my  surprise  at  what 
I  heard.  A  little  female  republic  among  those  hills  was  news  indeed 
and  when  I  came  near  AZORA,  my  astonishment  increased. 

She  was  attended  by  ten  young  women,  straight,  clean,  hand- 
some girls,  and  surpassed  them  in  tallness.  Her  countenance 
was  masculine,  but  not  austere  :  her  fine  blue  eyes  discovered  an 
excellence  of  temper,  while  they  showed  the  penetration  of  her 
mind.  Her  hair  was  brown,  bright  and  charming  ;  and  nature 
had  stamped  upon  her  cheek  a  colour,  that  exceeded  the  most 
beautiful  red  of  the  finest  flower.  It  was  continually  as  the 
maiden  blush  of  a  modest  innocence.  She  was  dressed  in  a  fine 
woollen  stuff,  made  in  the  manner  shepherdesses  are  painted, 
and  on  her  head  had  a  band  or  fillet  like  what  the  ladies  now 
wear,  with  a  bunch  of  artificial  flowers  in  her  hair.  She  had  a 
very  small  straw  hat  on.  In  her  hand,  she  held  a  long  and  pretty 
crook  ;  and  as  her  coats  were  short,  her  feet  were  seen,  in  black 
silk  shoes,  and  the  finest  white  stockings,  and  appeared  vastly 
pretty.  She  struck  me  greatly.  She  was  a  charming,  and 
uncommon  figure.  When  I  came  up  to  AZORA,  I  could  hardly 
forbear  addressing  her,  as  the  son  of  Ulysses  did  the  supernal  ; 
"  O  vous  qui  que  vous  soiez,  mortelle  ou  deesse,  quoiqu'a  vous 
voir  on  ne  puisse  vous  prendre  que  pour  une  divinite,  seriez-vous 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  99 

insensible  au  malheur  d'un  fils,  etc."  Whoever  you  are,  a  mortal 
or  a  goddess,  though  sure  your  aspect  speaks  you  all  divine,  can 
you,  unmoved,  behold  a  hapless  son,  by  fate  expelled,  and  urged 
by  unrelenting  rage,  to  wander  through  the  world,  exposed  to 
winds  and  seas,  and  all  the  strokes  of  adverse  fortune,  till  he 
arrived  in  this  land  of  felicity  and  peace  ?  But  on  better  thoughts 
I  only  said,  I  am  your  most  humble  servant,  madam,  and  told 
her  I  believed  I  had  lost  my  way,  and  knew  not  where  to  go. 
To  which  she  replied,  "  you  are  welcome,  sir,  to  our  hamlet,  and 
to  the  best  entertainment  it  affords,  only  tell  me,"  she  added  with 
a  smile,  "  what  could  induce  you  to  travel  this  unbeaten  road, 
and  how  did  you  pass  the  precipices  and  rivers  you  must  have 
met  with  in  the  way  ?  "  "  Curiosity,  madam/'  I  answered, 
"  was  one  cause  ;  that  I  might  see  a  country  no  traveller  had  been 
in  ;  and  my  next  inducement,  to  find  a  valuable  friend  ;  who  lives 
somewhere  upon  the  northern  border  of  this  county,  or  Yorkshire, 
or  on  the  adjoining  limits  of  Cumberland  or  Durham  ;  but  on 
which  I  do  not  know  ;  and  as  I  come  from  Brugh  under  Stane- 
more,  I  judged  it  the  shortest  way  by  a  great  many  miles,  and 
the  likeliest  to  succeed  in  my  inquiry  after  my  friend,  then  as  to 
hills  and  waters,  many  dangerous  ones  I  have  gone  over,  and  with 
great  toil  and  fatigue  have  got  thus  far."  "  This,"  AZORA  said, 
"  is  a  rational  account  of  your  journey,  and  as  there  are  many 
difficulties  still  before  you,  you  are  welcome  to  rest  with  us  till 
you  are  refreshed,  and  able  to  proceed. 

By  this  time  we  reached  the  grotto  door,  and  upon  entering 
the  first  apartment,  I  saw  another  lady,  dressed  in  the  same 
manner,  and  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  age,  that  is,  about  six  and 
twenty,  as  I  was  told.  This  was  AZORA'S  companion  and 
friend.  She  was  a  very  pretty  woman,  though  inferior  to  AZORA 
in  charms  ;  but  her  mind  was  equally  luminous  and  good.  Neither 
she  nor  AZORA  were  learned  women,  this  is,  they  understood  no 
other  language  than  the  English  tongue,  and  in  that  they  had 
but  a  small  collection  of  the  best  books  ;  but  those  few  they  had 
read  well,  and  they  had  capacities  to  think.  In  reason,  philo- 
sophy, and  mathematics,  they  were  excellent,  and  in  the  most 
agreeable  manner,  discovered  in  conversation  the  finest  con- 
ceptions of  the  most  excellent  things.  AZORA,  of  the  two,  was 
by  much  the  best  speaker.  Her  voice  was  delightful,  and  her 
pronunciation  just,  strong,  clear,  and  various.  With  unspeakable 
pleasure  did  I  listen  to  her,  during  three  days  that  I  happily 
passed  with  her  and  her  companion,  and  received  from  both 
many  valuable  informations.  I  thought  I  understood  algebra 
very  well,  but  I  was  their  inferior,  and  they  instructed  me  ;  and 
on  the  fundamental  points  of  religion,  they  not  only  out-talked 
me,  but  out-reasoned  me.  It  is  very  strange,  I  confess.  It  is 
very  true,  however. 


ioo  THE  LIFE  OF 


AZORA,  in  particular,  had  an  amazing  collection  of  the  most 
rational  philosophical  ideas,  and  she  delivered  them  in  the  most 
pleasing  dress,  with  as  much  ease  as  she  breathed.  She  asked 
me,  after  I  had  feasted  on  an  excellent  supper,  how  religion  went 
on  in  the  world  ;  and  what  was  the  condition  of  that  which  came 
from  supernatural  communication,  as  she  phrased  it  ?  and  when 
I  told  her,  that  our  excellent  divines  did  all  that  was  possible 
for  men  to  do,  to  turn  the  world  from  superstition  of  every  kind, 
to  that  express  revelation  which  restores  the  dictates  of  uncor- 
rupted  reason  to  their  force  and  authority  ;  which  teaches  the 
knowledge  of  one  supreme  Spirit  or  God,  and  the  nature  of  that 
worship  which  is  due  to  a  Being  not  confined  to,  or  dependent 
upon  particular  places,  or  circumstances  ;  but  always  and  every- 
where present  with  us  :  she  answered,  that  such  clergymen  are 
glorious,  and  cannot  be  enough  admired  ;  and  great  is  the  un- 
reasonableness of  the  men  who  opposed  them,  and  forced  them 
into  the  field  of  disputation,  from  their  holy  labour  of  instructing 
the  people  in  penetential  piety  and  sanctification  ;  I  mean  the 
infidels  and  the  bigots. 

"  What  can  be  more  unjust  and  impious,"  AZORA  continued, 
"  than  for  men  to  declaim  against  a  revelation  which  displays 
the  paternal  regard  of  God  for  his  creatures,  by  doing  more  than 
was  strictly  necessary  for  their  happiness,  as  they  had  his  original 
law  of  reason  before  he  gave  them  the  gospel ;  and  which  enables 
us  to  extend  our  knowledge  even  as  to  those  things  which  we  are 
by  nature  capable  of  knowing  ;  which  awakens  us  to  duty,  and 
advises  us  how  to  walk  in  the  ways  of  prudence  and  safety.     To 
reject  such  an  extraordinary  method  of  saving  us,  is  senseless  and 
culpable    indeed.     Surely,    when    superstition    and    enthusiasm 
has  led  mankind  into  errors,  we  ought  to  adore  the  divine  goodness 
for  re-communicating  a  knowledge  of  true  religion  ;  of  duty  in 
this  life,  and  of  what  we  are  to  expect  in  that  which  is  to  come. 
We  can  never  be  thankful  enough  for  a  revelation,  that  has  a 
tendency  to  promote  the  happiness  of  mankind  both  here  and 
hereafter.     The  opposition,  in  my  opinion,  is  without  excuse  ; 
as    the  external  evidence  of  history,   miracles,    and  prophecy 
for  the  gospel,  is   incontestably  strong,  when  fairly  examined  ; 
must  appear  with  force  to  a  modest,  candid,  impartial  inquirer  ; 
and  as  the  internal  evidence  for  the  sacred  letters,their  usefulness 
and  excellence,  must  be  obvious  to  every  attentive  capacity, 
that  delights  in  the  pursuit  of  religion  and  virtue.     Truth  and 
candour,  then,  those  infidels  are  strangers  to.     They  are  not  fair 
reasoners.     They  are  haughty,  over-bearing  declaimers. 

"  Nor  can  I  think  much  better,"  said  AZORA,  "  of  those  great 
and  reverend  men,  who  preach  and  write  to  prove  the  weakness 
of  human  reason,  and  that  the  prime  la,w  of  our  creation,  the 
law  of  nature,  is  imperfect,  insufficient,  and  obscure  ;  and  there- 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  101 

fore,  supernatural  communication  was  absolutely  necessary  ; 
who  add  to  this,  things  inconceivable  and  contradictory,  and 
insist  upon  our  believing  articles  too  hard  for  rational  beings. 
This  is  misrepresenting  rationals,  if  we  believe  the  Scriptures,  and 
is  so  far  from  being  of  service  to  the  cause  of  Christianity,  as  in 
Charity  we  must  suppose  those  great  men  by  such  writing  and 
preaching  do  intend  ;  that  it  does,  on  the  contrary,  very  greatly 
hurt  revealed  religion.  It  is  to  such  wrong  defences  of  revelation 
that  antichristian  deism  owes  its  chief  strength.  Our  holy 
religion  wants  not  any  real  evidence  that  can  be  desired  by  the 
modest,  candid,  and  impartial ;  but  if  great  and  learned  men 
will  deny  the  perfection  of  the  primary  law  of  God  and  substitute 
in  the  place  of  recommunicated  nature,  an  invented  gospel,  that 
swells  with  useless  mysteries,  and  hard  doctrines  ;  great  damage 
must  fall  upon  the  true  gospel.  An  unintelligible  religion  is  no 
religion.  It  can  be  of  no  concern,  with  regard  to  rational  crea- 
tures ;  and  strong  minds  will  laugh  at  its  pieties." 

"  But  exclusive  of  invented  mysteries,"  I  said,  "  which  are 
to  be  sure  sad  stuff  in  the  works  of  those  great  men,  and  deplorably 
corrupt  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel,  to  me  it  is  not  so  plain,  that 
mankind  could  by  reason  acquire  just  and  adequate  ideas  of  the 
existence  and  nature  of  the  supreme  Being,  or  know  that  they 
had  immortal  souls,  and  would  expose  themselves  to  eternal 
unavoidable  misery  in  a  future  state,  in  proportion  to  the  demerit 
of  their  thoughts  and  actions  in  this  world  ;  but  might  secure 
everlasting  felicity  by  worshipping  one  supreme,  universal, 
omnipotent,  eternal,  omnipresent,  and  intelligent  spirit,  and 
doing  all  the  good  we  have  an  opportunity  and  power  to  do  in 
this  life.  I  question  if  reason  can  make  us  clear  and  certain  on 
these  articles.  The  reason  of  the  bulk  of  mankind  cannot  do  it , 
I  think.  Therefore,  the  gospel  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the 
salvation  of  men." 

AZORA  to  this  replied,  that  "  faith  in  Christ,  and  all  his  own 
institutions,  were  of  high  value  indeed  ;  and  beautiful  his  religion 
appears,  when  it  is  fairly  represented,  as  an  institution  that  has 
no  other  end  than  morality,  the  most  noble  end,  and  the  most 
worthy  of  God  ;  and  that  declares  the  practice  of  all  the  moral 
offices  to  be  superior  to  any  inward  accomplishment,  or  outward 
Christian  institution  :  but  she  could  not  allow,  that  Christianity 
was  absolutely  necessary  :  for  the  common  reason  of  men,  without 
launching  out  into  the  unfathomable  ocean  of  metaphysical 
subtilties,  appears  upon  trial  to  be  able  to  discover  the  funda- 
mental points  of  religion  ;  and  from  the  things  that  are  made, 
from  our  moral  capacities  and  powers,  and  from  our  relations  to 
one  another,  to  know  the  Supreme  Being,  his  attributes  and 
perfections,  and  that  we  are  accountable  to  our  great  Creator." 

"  If  men  will  think,  they  must  perceive  without  the  reason  of 


102  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  Newton  or  Clarke,  the  existence  of  a  spiritual  influence  in  all 
the  parts  of  inanimated  matter,  and  the  existence  of  their  own 
spirits  or  souls.  To  which  ever  part  of  matter  we  look,  we  see 
a  spirit  employed.  An  influencing  being,  endued  with  the 
faculties  of  perception,  activity,  and  volition,  is  plain.  The 
accidental  qualities  of  matter,  called  attraction,  repulsion,  and 
communication  of  motion,  evince  that  material  and  vegetable 
nature,  and  all  the  parts  of  inanimated  matter,  are  actuated  by 
one  supreme  and  universal  Spirit :  I  say  One  Spirit,  because  it  is 
evident  from  a  sameness  of  volition,  that  is,  from  one  and  the 
same  faculty  of  volition,  manifest  throughout  all  nature,  that 
there  are  not  several  distinct,  independent  spirits.  In  attraction, 
repulsion  and  communication  of  motion ;  there  appears  no 
different  faculty  of  volition,  but  a  different  exercise  of  the  same 
faculty  of  volition,  which,  for  wise  reasons,  makes  some  parts 
of  matter  cohere  strongly,  as  stone  and  metal, — some  weakly, 
as  earth,  etc.  ;  some  repel,  while  others  attract ;  some  elastic, 
and  others  non-elastic.  In  all  these  cases,  one  spirit  only  is  the 
actor  :  that  Being  who  holds  all  perfection  in  himself,  and  by  an 
absolute  command  over  all  parts  of  matter,  forms  and  manages 
it  as  his  wisdom  sees  best ;  just  as  his  adorable  providence  governs 
us,  and  disposes  of  us,  by  such  laws  as  reason,  consulting  the  good 
of  the  whole  society,  declares  it  to  be  best  for  us  to  obey  :  best, 
most  surely,  as  it  is  the  glory  of  the  Almighty  to  be  constantly 
and  without  any  deviation  governed  by  the  eternal  and  immutable 
lawrs  of  good  and  right,  just  and  equal.  All  is  the  operation 
of  one  and  the  same  universal  spirit.  Identity  is  visible.  The 
various  kinds  of  attraction,  repulsion,  etc.,  only  show  the  un- 
limited power  of  the  Deity,  in  actuating  matter  as  his  established 
rules  require.  Were  several  arbitrary  supreme  spirits  to  act 
over  matter,  the  consequence  would  be  a  breach  of  regularity, 
uniformity,  and  constancy,  in  the  laws  of  nature,  and  that  con- 
fusion would  appear  instead  of  beauty  and  order. 

"  Thus  common  reason  confesses  that  there  is  one  infinite 
universal,  supreme  spirit,  who  actuates  and  governs  the  universe  ; 
and  from  the  heavens,  the  earth,  and  ourselves,  we  are  as  certain 
that  there  is  a  Creator  and  Lord  of  all  the  Worlds,  who  directs 
every  atom  of  it,  and  animates  every  material  form,  as  we  are 
of  anything  demonstrated  to  us.  And  as  he  is  not  only  the 
Creator  but  the  Manager  and  Preserver  of  every  being,  there  can 
be  no  power  equal  to  him.  He  must  be  omnipotent.  He  must 
likewise  be  eternal  and  omnipresent  ;  for  there  was  no  superior 
power  to  receive  existence  from,  nor  is  there  a  superior  power  to 
confine  it.  As  to  his  infinite  intelligence,  his  being  the  Author 
and  Preserver  of  all  things  demonstrates  it. 

"  In  respect  of  the  human  soul,"  AZORA.  continued,  "it  is 
impossible  for  perception  to  proceed  from  the  body,  or  from  any 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  103 

motion  or  modification  of  parts  of  the  body  ;  and  therefore,  there 
must  be  a  mind  in  which  our  ideas  must  be  produced  and  exist. 
If  the  ideas  of  sensation  may  be  supposed  to  be  occasioned  by 
the  different  motions  of  the  constituent  parts  of  the  brain,  yet 
they  cannot  be  those  motions.  The  motions  can  only  enable  a 
spiritual  percipient  to  note  them  and  remember  them,  and  as 
to  reflection,  the  other  part  of  the  perceptive  faculty,  attention, 
and  contemplation,  it  is  not  possible  they  can  proceed  from  the 
different  motions  into  which  the  parts  of  the  brain  are  put  ; 
because  they  are  employed  solely  about  perceptions  which  were 
only  in  the  mind.  The  case  is  the  same  as  to  many  other  qualities 
or  faculties  ;  in  the  designing  quality,  the  inventing  quality,  the 
judging  quality,  the  reasoning  quality,  the  compounding  quality, 
the  abstracting  quality,  the  discerning  quality,  the  recollective 
quality,  the  retentive  quality,  the  freedom  of  will,  the  faculty 
of  volition,  and  especially  the  foreseeing  faculty  :  these  cannot  be 
the  faculties  of  matter.  Such  qualities  must  exist  ultimately 
and  solely  in  mind.  Can  foresight,  for  example,  be  the  work  of 
matter,  when  it  is  employed  about  things  and  actions  which  have 
not  yet  happened,  and  for  that  reason  cannot  be  the  objects  of 
the  senses  ?  No  surely.  It  must  be  the  spiritual  part  of  the 
compound  that  acts  upon  the  occasion  :  in  all  the  intelligent 
faculties  which  we  comprehend  under  the  complex  idea  of  under- 
standing, spirit  only  can  be  the  performer. 

"  There  is  a  soul  or  mind  then  in  man,  and  that  it  is  immortal 
and  accountable,  is  as  evident  as  that  the  retentive  faculty, 
that  is,  retaining  ideas  received  by  reflection,  does  not  pertain 
to  body,  but  it  is  a  natural  quality  of  the  soul  only,  and  does  not 
proceed  from  its  union  with  the  body  :  for,  as  perception  and 
retention  prove  the  human  mind  to  be  a  distinct  being,  and  that 
it  has  qualities  which  cannot  proceed  from  the  body,  therefore 
it  must  still  continue  a  spirit  unless  annihilated  by  its  Creator, 
and  must,  after  its  separation,  be  endued  with  the  qualities  which 
are  the  faculties  of  soul  only.  The  reason  is  plain.  These 
qualities  cannot  be  destroyed  without  a  cause,  but  separation  is 
no  cause,  as  the  quality  or  qualities  did  not  proceed  from, 
or  depend  on  union,  therefore  the  soul  is  immortal,  unless  we 
suppose  what  cannot  be  supposed,  that  its  Creator  puts  an  end 
to  its  being.  We  must  know,  after  death,  that  we  exist.  We 
must  remember  a  past  existence,  and  call  to  mind  every  idea 
we  had  formed  in  this  life  by  reflection.  ; 

"As  to  our  being  accountable  hereafter  for  the  deeds  we 
have  done  in  this  first  state  of  existence,  this  can  admit  of  no 
speculation  ;  for  as  we  have  received  from  our  Creator  the  eternal 
law  of  reason,  which  enables  us  to  distinguish  right  and  wrong, 
and  to  govern  the  inferior  powers  and  passions,  appetites  and 
senses,  if  we  please  ;  as  we  are  endued  with  an  understanding 


104  THE  LIFE  OF 

which  can  acquire  large  moral  dominion,  and  may,  if  we  oppose 
not,  sit  as  queen  upon  the  throne  over  the  whole  corporeal  system  ; 
since  the  noble  faculty  of  reason  was  given  to  rectify  the  soul 
and  purify  it  from  earthly  affections  ;  to  elevate  it  above  the 
objects  of  sense,to  purge  it  from  pride  and  vanity,  selfishness  and 
hypocrisy,  and  render  it  just,  pious,  and  good  ;  of  consequence, 
God  has  a  right  to  call  us  to  account  for  our  conduct  in  this  first 
state,  and  will  reward  or  punish,  in  a  most  extraordinary  manner  ; 
as  the  principles  and  actions  of  man  have  been  righteous  ;  or, 
his  life  and  character  stained  by  unjust  dispositions  and  filthy 
deeds.  This  is  plain  to  common  reason.  Every  understanding 
must  see  this,  how  wrong  soever  they  wilfully  act.  As  God  by 
his  nature  must  abhor  iniquity,  and  love  what  is  honest,  pure, 
and  good  ;  he  must  reward  the  piety  and  worthy  behaviour  of 
those,  who  act  according  to  reason  in  this  life,  and  with  views 
beyond  the  bounds  of  time,  endeavour  to  proceed  each  day  to 
more  exalted  ideas  of  virtue  :  but,  the  mortals  who  deviate  from 
rectitude  and  goodness,  and  wilfully  live  workers  of  iniquity, 
must  expect  that  God,  the  Father  of  Spirits,  the  Lover  of  truth, 
and  the  patron  of  righteousness  and  virtue,  will  proportion  future 
punishments  to  present  vices,  and  banish  them  to  the  regions  of 
eternal  darkness.  From  the  natural  lights  of  our  understanding 
we  have  the  highest  reason  to  conclude  this  will  be  the  case. 
The  truths  are  as  evident  to  a  reflection,  as  that  this  world,  and 
we  who  inhabit  it,  could  not  have  had  eternal  existence,  nor  be 
first  formed  by  any  natural  cause  ;  but  must  have  been  originally 
produced,  as  we  are  now  constantly  preserved,  by  the  supreme 
and  universal  spirit.  This  is  the  excellent  law  of  reason  or 
nature.  There  is  a  light  sufficient  in  every  human  breast,  to 
conduct  the  soul  to  perfect  day,  if  men  will  follow  it  right  onwards, 
and  not  turn  into  the  paths  that  lead  to  the  dark  night  of  hell." 
AZORA'S  religions  notions  amazed  me,  and  the  more,  as  they 
were  uttered  with  a  fluency  and  ease  beyond  anything  I  had  ever 
heard  before.  In  the  softest,  sweetest  voice,  she  expressed 
herself,  and  without  the  least  appearance  of  labour,  her  ideas 
seemed  to  flow  from  a  vast  fountain.  She  was  a  master  indeed 
in  the  doctrine  of  ideas.  Her  notion  of  them  and  their  formation 
was  just  as  possible  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  she  settled  everything 
relating  to  them.  Her  ideas  of  activity  and  passivity  afforded 
me  much  instruction,  as  did  her  notions  of  space,  matter,  and 
spirit  :  and  what  is  still  more  extraordinary,  she  had  a  fine  con- 
ception of  an  electrical  fluid,  which  is  thought  to  be  a  discovery 
made  very  lately,  and  made  use  of  it  to  prove,  not  that  it  is  the 
ultimate  cause  of  effects,  but  that  everything  is  caused  and 
directed  by  an  immaterial  spirit.  An  immaterial  spirit  was  her 
favourite  article,  and  it  was  to  me  a  fine  entertainment  to  hear 
her  on  that  subject ;  from  the  one  supreme  spirit  down  to  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  105 

spirit  of  brute  animals.  But  to  conclude  our  conversation  on 
religion  ;  I  observed  to  AZORA,  that  "  if  things  were  so,  and  the 
law  or  reason  was  so  perfect  and  sufficient,  then  I  could  not  see 
that  there  was  any  want  at  all  of  the  religion  of  favour,  since  that 
of  nature  was  enough  to  confirm  us  in  rectitude  and  holiness,  if 
we  would  obey  its  directions  ;  and  to  show  us  the  way  to  the 
mansions  of  angels.  Why  the  law  of  grace  at  so  great  an  expense, 
if  the  rule  of  reason  can  make  us  good  here,  and  for  ever  happy 
hereafter  ?  " 

AZORA  replied,  that  she  had  before  answered  this  question  by 
observing,  that  "  excellent  as  the  primary  law  of  the  creation 
was,  yet  revelation  was  of  the  greatest  use,  as  it  enables  us  to 
extend  our  knowledge  even  as  to  the  things  which  we  are  by 
nature  capable  of  knowing  ;  and  as  it  restored  to  the  world  the 
law  of  reason,  that  is,  true  religion,  when  superstition  and  enthu- 
siasm had  established  false  religion.  This  renders  Christianity 
glorious  were  there  nothing  more  to  be  said  for  it.  But  this  is 
not  all  we  can  say. 

"  The  best  of  mortals  are  weak,  and  the  most  of  them  are  so 
fully  employed  about  things  temporal,  that  it  is  impossible  so 
.much  good  should  proceed  from  mere  human  reason  as  from  a 
plain  easy  gospel,  that  delineates  duty  in  the  most  intelligible 
manner,  and  contains  the  absolute  command  of  the  great  God, 
to  renounce  vicious  habits,  impure  desires,  worldly  tempers,  and 
frame  ourselves  to  purity,  sincerity,  and  devotion ;  as  the 
only  means  that  can  secure  his  felicitating  presence  and  gain  us 
admission  to  the  delightful  seats  of  separate  souls  made  perfect. 
In  this  the  gospel  is  far  preferable  to  reason. 

"  Beside,  as  wilful  disobedience  strikes  at  the  being  and  govern- 
ment of  God,  and  devotedness  to  the  Lord  of  all  the  worlds,  in 
trust  and  resignation,  is  the  perfection  of  religion,  the  example 
of  the  Son  of  God  in  his  humiliation,  his  cross,  his  death,  make 
an  instance  of  resignation  so  consummate  and  instructive,  that 
we  not  only  learn  from  it  what  reason  cannot  half  so  well  instruct 
us  in  ;  I  mean  the  amiableness  of  virtue,  the  excellency  of  holiness, 
and  the  merit  of  absolute  and  unreserved  obedience  ;  but,  we  are 
roused  to  an  imitation  of  this  grand  character  ;  both  on  account 
of  its  beauty,  and  the  promise  of  our  sitting  down  with  Christ  in 
his  throne,  if,  according  to  our  measure,  we  work  all  righteousnes, 
and  overcome  our  present  temptations  and  trials,  even  as  he  also 
overcame,  and  is  set  down  with  his  Father  in  his  throne.  Reason 
is  nothing  compared  to  this.  The  gospel  dispensation  by  this 
means  is  fitted  to  render  us  virtuous,  holy,  and  thoroughly  good, 
in  a  method  the  law  of  nature  could  never  do." 

"  And  more^than  this,  when  the  God  of  heaven  saw  his  creatures 
and  children  every  where  going  wrong,  without  any  help  amongst 
themselves,  and  therefore  sent  his  son  to  set  them  right ;  to  set 


io6  THE  LIFE  OF 


before  them  the  unchangeable  rule  of  everlasting  righteousness 
in  its  original  purity  and  perfection,  and  not  only  explain  and 
enforce  it  by  the  most  powerful  considerations,  but  apply  the 
commands  of  supreme  reason  to  the  government  of  the  thoughts 
and  passions  of  the  heart ;  that  duty  and  virtue  in  the  principle, 
and  habit  of  universal  rectitude  towards  both  God  and  man, 
might  be  the  practice  of  all  the  earth,  and  mankind  become  a 
people  holy  to  the  Lord  ;  He,  the  Universal  Father,  the  better  to 
effect  this  blessed  purpose,  added  two  things  to  religion,  which 
have  a  power  that  reason  wants  to  make  us  conform  to  God,  and 
the  eternal  laws  of  righteousness,  in  principle,  temper,  and  life. 
One  is,  Christ's  appearing  to  put  away  sin  by  the  sacrifice  of 
himself,  by  his  becoming  a  sin-offering.  The  other  is  the  assist- 
ance of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The  oblation  of  the  son,  and  the  grace 
of  the  Father,  have  effects  in  religion,  in  changing  and  sanctifying, 
that  reason  is  an  utter  stranger  to. 

"  The  sum  of  the  whole  is,  the  gospel,  that  word  of  truth  and 
power,  enters  the  hearts,  and  breaks  the  power  of  sin  in  the  soul. 
The  holy  life  of  Christ  sets  us  an  example,  that  we  should  walk 
in  his  steps,  and  obey  the  will  of  the  infinitely  wise  Creator  ;  that, 
like  him,  we  should  accord  by  obedience  with  the  harmony  of 
God's  moral  government,  and  rather  die  than  break  or  obstruct 
it  by  any  wilful  sin.  And  by  his  being  a  sin-offering,  he  not  only 
put  an  end  to  all  sin-offerings,  which  both  Jews  and  Gentiles 
were  wont  to  offer  ;  *  but,  by  his  being  the  most  precious  one  in 
the  universe,  showed  God's  great  displeasure  against  sin,  and 
in  his  obedience  to  the  Father,  even  unto  death,  that  we  ought  to 
cease  from  evil,  and  by  a  righteous  obedience  render  ourselves 
worthy  of  God  the  Father's  love.  That  we  may  do  so  we  have 
the  promise  of  the  Spirit  to  enable  us  to  turn  from  sin  and  Satan 
to  the  living  God,  that  by  the  acting  principle  of  sanctification, 
wrought  within  us  by  the  hand  of  him  that  made  us,  without  the 
least  force  on  our  will,  we  may  perfect  our  souls  in  purity  and 
holiness,  exercise  acts  of  love  and  benevolence,  and  worship  the 
one  true  God  in  and  through  the  one  true  Mediator.  Reason  alone, 
excellent  as  it  is,  cannot  produce  anything  like  this. 

"  The  religion  of  favour  in  these  respects  surpasses  the  law  of 
nature.  By  the  first  law  of  the  creation,  reason,  we  may  acquire 
that  righteousness,  which  is  an  habitual  rectitude  of  soul,  and 
right  actions  flowing  from  it  :  but  sanctification,  that  influencing 
principle,  which  adds  holiness  to  righteousness,  belongs,  as  I 

*  When  a  plague  afflicted  the  Massilienses,  they  fed  a  poor  man  deliriously,  and  adorned 
him  with  sacred  vestments  ;  then  led  him  through  the  city,  and  sacrificed  him,  by  throwing 
him  headlong  down  from  a  steep  rock,  after  the  people  had  poured  their  execrations  upon 
him  and  prayed  that  all  the  calamities  of  the  city  might  fall  upon  him.  Such  practice  shews 
that  Christ  being  offered  for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world,  was  in  conformity  to  the  ideas  of 
mankind.  The  Jews  had  their  devoted  animal,  and  the  Gentiles  had  their  sacrificed  poor 
man,  and  other  ways.  -. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  107 

take  it,  to  the  law  of  grace.  It  is  given  to  those  who  ask  it,  not  for 
the  sake  of  but  through  Christ." 

"  All  this,"  I  answered,  "  is  just  and  fine,  and  I  have  only  to 
request,  for  my  farther  instruction,  that  you  will  be  pleased, 
madam,  to  explain  yourself  a  little  more  on  the  articles  of  a  sin- 
offering,  and  grace  ;  for  I  have  always  thought  there  was  a  dark- 
ness sat  upon  these  parts  of  revealed  religion,  and  have  often 
wished  for  what  I  have  not  yet  found,  a  head  capable  of  giving  me 
entire  satisfaction  on  these  points  :  but  from  what  I  have  heard 
you  say,  I  must  now  suppose  that  all  my  doubts,  relative  to  the 
two  subjects,  you  have  the  power  to  remove."  "  My  power," 
replied  AZORA,  "is  no  more  than  a  plain  understanding,  that  in 
this  still  and  peaceful  region,  has  been  at  liberty,  to  think  without 
being  corrupted  by  sophistry,  school-nonsense,  or  authority  ;  and, 
as  to  giving  satisfaction  on  the  heads  you  mention,  or  any  other, 
it  is  not  what  I  pretend  to  :  but  my  opinion  you  shall  have  since 
you  ask  ;  "  and  in  the  following  manner  AZORA  proceeded. 

"As  to  our  Lord's  becoming  a  sin-offering,  I  conceive,  in  the 
first  place,  that  God  ordained  it,  because  he  saw  it  needful,  and 
necessary  to  answer  many  and  great  ends.  It  must  be  right,  and 
what  in  the  reason  and  nature  of  things  ought  to  be,  though  we 
were  not  able  to  comprehend  the  reasons  that  made  it  needful. 
It  must  have  been  the  properest  way  to  make  up  the  breach  be- 
tween heaven  and  earth,  since  infinite  wisdom  appointed  it. 

"  In  the  next  place,  as  the  death  of  this  great  person  not  only 
gave  the  highest  attestation  to  the  truth  of  his  doctrine,  and  con- 
firmed every  word  he  had  preached  ;  to  the  encouragement  of 
sinners  to  repent,  and  the  great  consolation  of  saints  ;  but  has 
afforded  us  such  a  noble  pattern  of  obedience,  as  must  have  an  in- 
fluence on  intelligent  beings,  and  excite  them  to  practice  obedience 
to  all  the  commands  of  God,  and  perfect  resignation  to  his  will 
in  every  case  ;  which  are  some  excellent  reasons  for  Christ's  dy- 
ing ;  so  did  Almighty  God  make  this  farther  use  of  it,  that  he 
appointed  the  blood  of  Christ,  which  was  shed  to  produce  the 
essence  of  sanctification  in  the  soul,  to  wit,  devotedness,  trust, 
and  resignation  to  the  Almighty  Father  of  the  universe,  to  be  the 
blood  of  a  new  covenant,  shed  for  many  for  the  remission  of  sins. 
This  seems  to  me  to  take  in  the  whole  case.  Christ  by  obedience 
to  the  death,  which  happened  in  the  natural  course  of  things,  is 
held  out  to  the  world  a  pattern  of  self-sacrifice  in  the  cause  of  truth 
and  virtue,  a  sample  of  that  perfect  religion,  not  my  will,  but  thine 
be  done ;  the  glorious  gospel  is  thereby  confirmed  ;  and  our  re- 
demption is  effected  by  the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God.  As  Moses, 
the  mediator  between  God  and  Israel,  repeated  to  the  people  the 
laws  and  judgments  of  God,  and  received  their  consent  to  the  di- 
vine commands  ;  entered  this  covenant  in  his  book,  offered 
sacrifices  of  praise  and  friendship,  and  then  confirmed  the  covenant 


io8  THE  LIFE  OF 


in  the  most  solemn  manner,  by  dividing  the  blood  of  the  sacrifices 
into  parts  ;  one  part  of  which  he  sprinkled  on  the  altar,  to  ratify 
God's  part  of  the  covenant ;  and  with  the  other  part  sprinkled 
the  people,  that  is,  the  twelve  princes,  the  heads,  or  the  twelve  pil- 
lars, which  represented  the  twelve  tribes,  and  then  awfully  cried 
out  with  a  strong  voice,  '  Behold  the  blood  of  the  covenant  Je- 
hovah has  made  with  you  :  '    so  did  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the 
mediator  between  God  and  all  mankind,  teach  the  people  by  his 
gospel  to  rectify  their  notions,  to  regulate  their  affections,  to  direct 
their  worship  ;  with  the  judgments  that  were  to  be  the  consequence 
of  disobedience,  the  rewards  prepared  for  those  who  obey  ;  and 
then  declared,  in  relation  to  his  death,  '  This  is  my  blood  of  the 
new  covenant.      The  blood  I  must  shed  on  the  cross  will  seal, 
ratify,  and  confirm  a  pardoning  covenant,  and  by  virtue  thereof, 
upon  repentance  and  conversion,  the  world  is  washed  clean  through 
the  blood  of  the  Lamb.'     This,  I  think  for  myself,  renders  the 
thing  very  plain  and  easy.     The  death  of  the  Son  of  God  was  taken 
into  the  plan  of  redemption,  not  to  pacify  God's  anger  ;  for  God 
could  be  no  otherwise  pleased  or  delighted  with  the  blood  of  his 
Son,  than  as  his  shedding  it  was  an  act  of  the  highest  obedience 
and  a  noble  pattern  to  all  the  rational  creation  ;  but  his  blood 
was  made  the  seal  of  a  pardoning  and  justifying  covenant ;  and 
by  the  death  of  Christ,  the  most  powerful  means  to  prevent  sin, 
and  to  draw  sinners  to  obey  the  commands  of  heaven,  God  de- 
monstrated his  love  and  mercy  to  mankind.     I  fancy  I  am  clear. 
In  this  view  of  the  matter,  I  can  see  no  difficulty  in  being  justified 
freely  by  the  grace  of  God,  through  the  redemption  which  is  in 
Christ  Jesus.     God  is  the  sole  original  and  fountain  of  redemption 
The  Son,  and  his  gospel  are  the  great  instruments.     Lo  !  I  come 
to  do  thy  will,  O  my  God,  the  Son  declares  :  and  the  blood  be  shed, 
the  better  to  bring  the  human  race  to  wisdom,  rectitude  and  hap- 
piness, is  appointed  by  our  merciful,  good,  and  gracious  Father, 
to  be  the  seal  and  ratification  of  a  new  covenant.     Moloch  might 
want   cruel  and  bloody  sacrifice  to  pacify  him  ;  but  the  Father 
of  the  universe  sent  his  Christ  to  deliver  his  commands,  and  made 
the  death  which  he  foresaw  would  happen  by  his  Son's  delivering 
such  commands  to  impious  men,  to  be  a  covenant  between  Je- 
hovah and  the  people,  that  Jesus  should  be  considered  as  a  propi- 
tiation for  our  sins,  and  his  death  be  an  eternal  memorial  of  the 
Almighty's  love,  and  abhorrence  of  iniquity.     There  can  no  ob- 
jection lie  against  this.     To  me  this  appears  the  most  rational  and 
beautiful   scheme    that   infinite   wisdom    could  contrive.     Most 
glorious  and  good  is  our  God.     Most  happy  may  mortals  be,  if 
they  please.     The  virtuous  obedience  of  our  Lord  hath  obtained 
from  God  a  right  and  power  to  abolish  death.     His  blood  hath 
confirmed  the  covenant  of  grace,  and  his  gospel  hath  brought  life 
immortal  into  light. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  109 

"As  to  the  influence  of  the  spirit,"  AZORA  continued,  "  that 
there  is  such  a  living  principle  in  the  human  soul,  cannot,  I  think, 
be  denied,  if  revelation  is  to  be  believed  ;  but  the  mode  of  influenc- 
ing is  not  perhaps  to  be  explained  otherwise  than  by  saying,  that 
our  gracious  and  good  Father  makes  now  and  then  some  friendly 
impressions  upon  our  minds,  and  by  representing  in  several  lights 
the  terrors  and  promises  of  the  gospel,  excites  our  hopes  and  fears, 
As  I  apprehend,  we  can  go  very  little  further.  It  is  easy,  I  think, 
to  prove  from  the  scriptures,  that  as  the  extraordinary  assistance 
of  the  Holy  Ghost  was  necessary  for  planting  Christianity  at  first  ; 
so  is  a  supernatural  assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  though  not  in  so 
illustrious  a  manner,  still  necessary  to  enable  us  to  perform  the 
conditions  of  the  gospel.  Though  God  has  recalled  the  more 
visible  signs  of  his  presence,  yet  to  be  sure  he  continues  to  influence 
some  way  or  other.  I  cannot  suppose  the  Holy  Ghost  has  wholly 
withdrawn  himself  from  the  church.  '  The  renewing  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,'  St.  Peter  says,  '  was  a  promise  made  to  them  and  to  their 
children,  and  to  those  that  were  afar  off,  even  as  many  as  God 
should  call  ;  '  and  as  human  nature  has  the  same  weakness  and 
passions,  and  extravagancies  of  former  ages,  there  is  as  much  need 
of  a  divine  assistance  now  as  in  the  time  of  the  apostles  :  nay, 
more  need,  I  think,  at  present,  as  miracles  are  ceased.  There 
must  be  a  weight  of  supernatural  power  to  press  within,  as  there 
are  now  no  flashings  from  the  sky,  or  extraordinary  appearances 
without,  to  prove  the  certainty  of  our  religion,  and  make  us  con- 
sider its  promises,  threatenings,  and  rules  :  but  the  way  this  super- 
natural principle  acts,  as  before  observed,  is  hard  to  determine, 
any  more  than  what  I  have  said,  and  instead  of  wasting  our  time 
in  enquiries  how  the  thing  is  done,  our  business  is  to  render  our- 
selves capable  of  so  great  a  blessing,  by  not  grieving  this  holy 
spirit,  lest  he  depart  from  us  ;  and  resolving  with  the  psalmist,  to 
walk  with  a  perfect  heart,  and  to  set  no  wicked  thing  before  our 
eyes.  We  must  strive  to  improve  religious  thoughts  :  we  must 
labour  hard  to  obey  the  written  rules  ;  God  will  then  give  us  the 
grace  sufficient  for  us.  To  our  considerable  talent  of  natural 
power  to  do  good,  our  Father  will  add  the  advantages  of  his  spirit. 
If  we  desire  to  be  good,  he  will  make  us  good  in  conjunction  with 
our  own  application  and  pains  ;  by  a  gradual  process,  and  human 
methods.  If  nature  gives  her  utmost  actings,  the  author  of 
nature  will  move,  and  direct  and  assist  her  where  she  is  weak. 
Both  the  grace  and  the  providence  of  God  may  be  likened  to  a 
little  spring  concealed  within  a  great  machine  :  to  the  known 
given  powers  of  the  machine,  the  operations  of  it  are  ascribed,  and 
all  its  events  imputed  ;  yet  it  is  the  small  secreted  spring  that 
directs,  draws,  checks,  and  gives  movement  to  every  weight  and 
wheel.  The  case  cannot  be  exactly  alike,  as  a  compound  of  matter 
and  spirit  is  different  from  a  machine  :  but  it  may  suggest  I 


no  THE  LIFE  OF 


imagine  some  imperfect  idea  of  the  affair  :  a  very  imperfect  one, 
I  confess,  for  if  we  were  thinking  ever  so  long  of  the  matter,  grace 
after  all  would  be  what  the  apostle  calls  it,  an  unspeakable  gift. 
A  gift  surmounting  our  apprehensions  as  well  as  it  does  our  merit. 
The  theory  of  it  may  be  perhaps  too  excellent  for  us,  and  our  part 
is,  not  to  determine  how,  but  with  honest  hearts  to  pray,  that  a 
ray  from  heaven  may  open,  and  shine  upon  our  understanding, 
clear  it  from  prejudices  and  impostures,  and  render  it  teachable, 
considerative  and  firm ;  may  inspire  good  thoughts,  excite  good 
purposes,  and  suggest  wholesome  counsels  and  expedients.  This 
the  divine  power  may  easily  do,  without  depriving  us  of  free  will, 
or  lessening  our  own  moral  agency.  That  power  may  extinguish 
an  imagination  we  strive  to  get  rid  of  :  may  remove  an  impedi- 
ment we  labour  to  be  freed  from  :  may  foil  a  temptation  we  do  our 
best  to  resist.  If  we  do  all  we  can,  and  implore  the  divine  aid, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  the  Almighty  may  give  his  free  creatures 
such  power  and  dispositions,  as  will  carry  them  innocently  and 
safely  through  the  trials  of  this  first  state.  On  such  conditions, 
God,  the  Father  of  spirits,  the  friend  of  men,  the  patron  of  right- 
eousness and  all  virtue,  will,  without  all  peradventure,  distribute 
his  grace  to  every  mortal  in  proportion  to  the  measures  of  neces- 
sary duty." 

Here  AZORA  ended,  and  I  sat  for  some  minutes  after  in  great 
admiration.  Her  fancy  furnished  ideas  so  very  fast,  and  speaking 
was  so  very  easy  to  her,  without  one  pang  in  the  delivery,  or  the 
least  hesitation  for  hours,  as  she  could,  if  she  pleased,  so  long  dis- 
course ;  her  judgment  was  so  strong,  and  her  words  so  proper  and 
well  placed,  that  she  appeared  to  me  a  prodigy  in  speaking,  and  I 
could  have  listened  to  her  with  delight  and  amazement  the  whole 
night.  But  exactly  at  ten  o'clock,  the  old  woman  I  mentioned 
before,  who  first  bid  me  welcome  to  Burcot-Lodge,  came  into  the 
chamber  with  candles,  and  AZORA  told  me,  that  if  I  would  follow 
Gladuse,  she  would  light  me  to  bed  ;  this  I  did  immediately,  after 
wishing  the  ladies  good  night,  and  my  guide  brought  me  to  her 
own  cottage,  which  was  next  door  to  the  grotto.  She  showed  me 
into  a  small  clean  room,  neatly  and  prettily  furnished,  and  there  I 
found  a  good  bed.  Down  I  lay  as  soon  as  I  could,  being  much 
fatigued,  and  as  the  sun  was  rising,  got  up  again,  to  write  what  I 
could  remember  to  have  heard  AZORA  say.  My  memory  from  my 
childhood  has  been  very  extraordinary.  I  believe  there  are  few 
living  exceed  me  in  this  respect.  The  greatest  part  of  what  I  read 
and  hear,  remains  with  me,  as  if  the  book  was  still  before  me,  or 
the  speaker  going  on.  This  enables  me  to  write  down,  with  much 
exactness,  what  I  care  to  note,  and  I  can  do  it  for  the  most  part 
in  the  relater's  or  talker's  own  words,  if  I  minute  it  in  my  short 
hand  within  twenty-four  hours  after  reading  or  discoursing.  Upon 
this  account,  I  can  say,  that  I  lost  very  little  of  all  that  AZORA  was 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  n» 

pleased  to  let  me  hear  ;  or,  of  the  discourses  I  had  with  her  in- 
genious companion,  ANTONIA  FLETCHER. 

June  1 5th. — When  I  had  done  writing,  I  went  out  to  wait  upon 
the  ladies,  and  found  them  in  their  fine  gardens,  busily  employed 
in  the  useful  and  innocent  diversion  which  the  cultivation  of  some 
of  the  greatest  beauties  of  the  creation  affords.  They  had  every 
kind  of  fruit-tree  in  their  ground,  every  plant  and  flower  that 
grows,  and  such  a  variety  of  exotic  rarities  from  the  hotter  climate 
as  engaged  my  admiration,  and  finely  entertained  me  for  many  an 
hour,  during  my  stay  in  this  place.  They  both  understood  gar- 
dening to  perfection,  and  continually  lent  their  helping  hands  to 
the  propagation  of  every  thing.  The  digging  and  laborious  work 
was  performed  by  many  young  women,  who  did  it  with  great 
activity  and  understanding,  and  the  nicer  parts  these  ladies  exe- 
cuted. I  was  astonished  and  delighted  with  their  operations  of 
various  kinds.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  with  what  exquisite  skill 
they  used  the  knife,  managed  graffs,  and  cyons,  directed  the 
branches  and  twigs  in  posture  on  espaliers,  and  raised  flowers. 
They  had  everything  in  perfection  in  their  kitchen  garden  and 
physic  garden.  Their  fruits,  roots,  and  herbs  for  the  table,  were 
most  excellent ;  their  collection  of  herbs  for  medicine  the  most 
valuable  :  and  as  the  whole  contrivance  of  the  gardens  approached 
nature,  and  beautiful  in  grass,  gravel,  and  variety  of  evergreens, 
I  was  led  with  delight  through  the  whole,  till  I  came  into  the  green- 
house. There  I  saw  AZORA  and  ANTONIA  at  work,  and  paid  them 
the  compliments  they  deserved. 

Immediately  after  my  arrival,  breakfast  was  brought  in,  choco- 
late and  toast,  and  the  ladies  were  extremely  pleasant  over  it. 
They  asked  me  a  great  many  questions  about  the  world,  and  were 
so  facetious  in  their  remarks,  and  pleased  with  my  odd  account  of 
things,  that  they  laughed  as  heartily  as  I  did,  and  that  was  at  no 
small  rate.  This  being  done,  we  walked  over  every  part  of  the 
gardens,  and  AZORA  did  me  the  honour  not  only  to  shew  me  all  the 
curiosities,  and  improvements  she  had  made,  in  the  management 
of  seeds,  flowers,  plants,  and  trees  ;  but,  lectured  on  various  fine 
objects  that  appeared  in  our  way,  with  a  volubility  of  tongue,  and 
a  knowledge  of  the  subjects,  that  was  amazing  indeed.  Were  I  to 
set  down  what  she  said  even  on  sallads,  cucumbers,  cauliflowers, 
melons,  asparagus,  early  cabbages,  strawberries,  rasberries,  cur- 
rants, goosberries,  apples,  pears,  plums,  cherries,  apricots,  &c,.  and 
especially  her  propagation  of  mushrooms,  champignons,  and  but- 
tons ;  this,  exclusive  of  exotics,  and  flowers,  would  make  I  believe 
an  octavo  ;  and  in  relation  to  exotics  and  flowers,  I  am  sure  she 
talked  twice  as  much,  and  of  every  thing  extremely  well.  I  never 
did  hear  any  thing  like  her.  The  discourse  cost  her  no  more  than 
the  breath  of  her  nostrils. 

But  at  last  we  came  to  a  fish-pond,  that  was  an  acre  of  water, 


H2  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  I  assure  you,  reader,  in  half  an  hour's  time  the  illustrious  AZORA 
not  only  talked  more  of  fish  and  ponds  than  the  ingenious  and 
honourable  Roger  North,  of  Rougham  in  Norfolk,  hath  written  on 
these  subjects  in  his  excellent  Discourse,  printed  in  1713,  in  8vo.  ; 
but,  mentioned  many  useful  things  relative  to  them,  which  Mr. 
North  was  a  stranger  to.  She  told  me,  among  other  matters,  that 
there  was  only  pike  and  perch  in  her  pond,  and  the  reason  of  it  was 
because  she  loved  pike  above  all  fish,  and  as  the  jacks  were  fish  of 
prey,  no  fish  but  the  perch  could  live  with  them  :  the  perch  on 
account  of  the  thorny  fins  on  its  back,  escapes  the  pike's  voracious 
appetite.  She  farther  informed  me,  that  the  jacks  in  her  pond 
were  the  finest  in  the  world,  as  I  would  see  at  dinner,  and  the 
reason  of  it  was  owing  to  the  high  feeding  she  took  care  they  had 
every  day  ;  beside  the  entrails  of  what  fowl  and  sheep  her  people 
killed  for  her  table  and  themselves,  the  pike  had  blood  and  bran 
mixed  in  plenty,  and  all  the  frogs  she  could  get  from  a  neighbour- 
ing fen  ;  for  of  them  the  jacks  are  most  fond.  This  made  the  fish 
extraordinary  ;  and  as  the  water  was  current  through  the  pond, 
and  the  bottom  of  various  depths  from  one  to  six  feet,  that  the 
spawn  may  have  shallow  water  to  lie  in,  and  the  fry  shallow  water 
to  swim  in,  as  they  both  required,  this  was  the  reason,  that  one 
acre  of  water  in  such  a  manner,  produced  double  the  quantity  of 
fish  to  what  a  pond  of  still  water  and  a  bottom  all  of  one  depth, 
could  have.  See,  continued  AZORA,  what  multitudes  there  are. 
They  know  me,  as  I  feed  them  myself  every  day,  and  tamely  come 
up,  cruel  tyrants  as  they  are,  to  get  their  meat.  Here  she  called 
'  jack,  jack/  and  throwing  in  a  basket  of  unfortunate  frogs,  it  was 
wonderful  to  see  how  those  devouring  monsters  appeared,  and 
voraciously  swallowed  the  poor  things. 

AZORA  was  going  to  proceed  to  another  pond  of  carp  and  tench, 
which  she  had  at  the  other  end  of  her  gardens,  and  let  me  know 
how  that  was  ordered,  so  as  to  produce  the  largest  and  finest  fish  : 
but  a  bell  rung  for  morning  prayers,  at  ten  o'clock,  and  she  im- 
mediately turned  towards  a  chapel.  She  asked  me  if  I  would 
attend  divine  service,  and  upon  my  answering,  with  pleasure, 
desired  me  to  come  on.  In  the  church  I  saw  every  soul  of  the 
community  assembled,  and  while  I  chose  to  sit  on  one  of  the 
benches  among  the  people,  at  some  distance,  that  I  might  the 
better  observe  every  thing  done,  the  ladies  ascended  by  a  few  steps 
into  a  reading  desk,  and  AZORA  began  with  great  devotion,  to  pray 
in  the  following  manner  : 

"  O  Christ,  our  blessed  mediator,  pray  for  us  that  our  faith  fail 
not,  and  through  thy  merits  and  intercession,  Lord  Jesus,  let  our 
prayer  be  set  forth  in  the  sight  of  Almighty  God  as  incense,  and 
the  lifting  up  of  our  hands  as  a  morning  sacrifice. 

"  Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  thou  pure  and  infinite  Spirit, 
who  art  the  great  cause  and  author  of  nature,  and  hast  established 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  113 

the  world  by  thy  wisdom,  and  stretched  out  the  heavens  by  thy 
discretion  ;  upon  whom  depends  the  existence  of  all  things,  and 
by  whose  providence  we  have  been  preserved  to  this  moment,  and 
enjoyed  many  blessings  and  undeserved  advantages  ;  graciously 
accept,  we  beseech  thee,  our  grateful  sense  and  acknowledgements 
of  all  thy  beneficence  towards  us  ;  accept,  O  Lord,  our  most  hearty 
and  unfeigned  thanks  for  all  the  instances  of  thy  favour  which  we 
have  experienced  ;  that  we  have  the  use  of  our  reason  and  under- 
standing, in  which  many  fail,  and  have  had  refreshing  sleep  and 
quiet  the  past  night ;  for  delivering  us  from  evil,  and  giving  us  our 
daily  bread  ;  for  all  the  necessaries,  conveniencies,  and  comforts, 
which  thy  liberal  hand  hast  provided  for  us,  to  sweeten  human  life, 
and  render  it  more  agreeable  than  otherwise  it  could  be  in  this  day 
of  our  exercise,  probation  and  trial.  While  we  live,  we  will  praise 
and  magnify  thy  awful  name,  and  join  in  ascribing,  with  the  glori- 
ous and  innumerable  heavenly  host,  honour,  power,  and  thanks- 
giving to  the  eternal  God,  who  sits  on  the  throne  of  supremacy 
unrivalled  in  majesty  and  power. 

"  But  especially,  O  great  and  blessed  God,  adored  be  thy  good- 
ness for  so  loving  the  world,  as  to  give  thy  only  begotten  Son,  to 
the  end,  that  all  who  believe  in  him,  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life  ;  for  his  humblin/himself  even  to  the  death  upon 
the  cross,  and  shedding  his  blood  for  the  remission  of  our  sins. 
Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works  of  mercy,  O  Lord  God,  Al- 
mighty !  who  can  utter  all  thy  praise  ?  Praise  our  God,  all  ye  his 
servants,  and  ye  that  fear  him,  small  and  great.  Amen ; 
allelujah.  Bless'ing  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power  be  unto 
him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb  for  ever  and 
ever. 

"  O  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  have  mercy  on  us 
dust  and  sin,  weakness  and  imperfection,  and  enter  not  into  strict 
judgment  with  us,  thine  unrighteous  and  unworthy  servants.  We 
confess,  with  shame  and  grief,  that  we  have  violated  thine  holy 
laws,  and  abused  thy  tender  mercies  :  that  we  have  followed  too 
much  the  devices  and  desires  of  our  own  hearts,  and  in  numberless 
instances  have  offended  against  a  most  righteous  governor,  a  most 
tender  and  compassionate  Father,  and  a  most  kind  and  bounteous 
benefactor.  In  thought,  word,  and  deed,  many  have  been  our 
offences  ;  and  many  are  still  our  imperfections.  We  have  sinned 
against  Heaven,  and  before  thee,  and  have  thereby  deserved  thy 
just  displeasure.  But  our  hope  and  confidence  is  in  thine  infinite 
mercy,  O  God,  and  that  according  to  thy  promises  declared  unto 
mankind  in  Christ  Jesus,  our  Lord,  thou  wilt  spare  them  who  con- 
fess their  faults,  and  restore  them  that  are  penitent.  We  do 
earnestly  repent,  and  are  heartily  sorry  for  all  our  misdoings. 
Through  faith  we  offer  up  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  the  eternal 
God  for  the  redemption  of  our  souls  ;  believing  the  worthiness  of 


114  THE  LIFE  OF 


our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  to  be  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice » 
oblation  and  atonement  for  the  sins  of  a  repenting  world,  and 
therefore  resolving,  with  all  our  strength,  to  imitate  his  spotless 
virtue,  and  perfect  obedience.  Pardon  us,  then,  we  beseech  thee, 
and  blot  out  our  iniquities.  Deliver  us,  we  pray,  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord  Jesus,  from  the  evil  consequences  of  all  our  transgressions 
and  follies,  and  give  us  such  powers  and  dispositions  as  will  carry 
us  innocently  and  safely  through  all  future  trials. 

"  Create  in  us,  O  God,  pure  hearts,  and  renew  right  spirits 
within  us.  Cast  thy  bright  beams  of  light  upon  our  souls,  and 
irradiate  our  understandings  with  the  rays  of  that  wisdom  which 
sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of  thy  throne.  Let  thy  holy  spirit 
enable  us  to  act  up  to  the  dignity  of  our  reasonable  nature,  and 
suitably  to  the  high  character,  and  glorious  hopes  of  Christians  ; 
that  we  may  subordinate  the  affairs  and  transactions  of  time  to 
serve  the  interests  of  our  souls  in  eternity  ;  that  we  may  shake 
off  this  vain  world,  and  breathe  after  immortality  and  glory  ; 
that  we  may  live  in  perfect  reconciliation  with  the  law  of  ever- 
lasting righteousness,  truth,  and  goodness  ;  and  so  comply  with 
thy  nature,  mind,  and  will,  O  eternal  and  sovereign  spirit,  thou 
God  most  wonderful  in  all  perfections,  that  we  may  fully  answer 
the  relation  we  stand  in  to  thee.  Relieve  and  ease  our  consciences 
O  blessed  Lord,  by  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  according  to  our  several 
conditions  of  body  and  mind  ;  and  supply  us  with  suitable  grace 
and  strength. 

"  We  beseech  thee,  in  the  next  place,  Almighty  Lord,  to  take 
us  into  thy  protection  this  day,  and  suffer  no  being  to  injure  us, 
no  misfortune  to  befal  us,  nor  us  to  hurt  ourselves  by  any  error 
or  misconduct  of  our  own.  Give  us,  O  God,  a  clear  conception 
of  things,  and  in  all  dangers  and  distresses,  stretch  forth  the  right 
hand  of  thy  majesty  to  help  and  defend  us.  From  sickness  and 
pain,  and  from  all  evil  and  mischief,  good  Lord  deliver  us  this 
day,  and  be  propitious  unto  us,  we  beseech  thee. 

"  And  while  we  remain  in  this  world,  O  Father,  Lord  of  heaven 
and  earth,  secure^us  from  everything  that  is  terrible  and  hurtful, 
and  keep  us  in  peace  and  safety.  From  all  sad  accidents  and 
calamitous  events,  from  all  tormenting  pains  and  grievous 
diseases,  good  Lord  deliver  us  ;  and  bless  us  with  so  much  health 
and  prosperity,  as  will  enable  us  to  pass  our  time  here  in  con- 
tentment and  tranquility. 

"  And  when  the  time  of  our  dissolution  shall  come,  by  the 
appointment  of  thy  adorable  wisdom,  O  Father  of  mercies  and 
the  God  of  all  comforts,  grant  us  a  decent  and  happy  exit ; 
without  distraction  of  mind  or  torments  of  body  :  let  thy  servants 
depart  in  peace,  and  suddenly  die  in  the  Lord. 

"  We  pray,  likewise,  for  the  happiness  of  all  mankind  :  that 
they  may  all  know,  and  obey,  and  worship  thee,  O  Father,  in 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  115 

spirit  and  in  truth,  and  that  all  who  name  the  name  of  Christ, 
may  depart  from  iniquity,  and  live  as  becomes  his  holy  gospel. 
We  beseech  thee  to  help  and  comfort  all  who  are  in  danger, 
necessity,  sickness,  and  tribulation  :  that  it  may  please  thee  to 
sanctify  their  afflictions,  and  in  thy  good  time  to  deliver  them  out 
of  all  their  distresses.  If  we  have  any  enemies,  O  Lord  forgive 
them,  and  turn  their  hearts. 

"Our  father,  etc." 

When  this  extraordinary  prayer  was  done,  which  was  prayed 
with  a  very  uncommon  devotion,  such  as  I  never  had  seen  before  ; 
they  all  stood  up,  and  AZORA  said,  "  Let  us  sing  the  nineteenth 
psalm  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  the  most  high  God,"  and  immedi- 
ately raised  it.  Then  all  the  people  joined,  and  a  psalm  was 
sung  to  perfection  indeed.  AZORA  and  ANTONIA  had  delightful 
voices,  and  as  they  understood  music  very  well,  they  had  taught 
this  congregation  so  much  church  harmony,  as  enabled  them  to 
perform  beyond  anything  I  have  ever  heard  in  any  assembly  of 
people.  The  whole  scene  was  a  strange  and  pleasing  thing. 
They  met  again  at  four  in  the  afternoon  ;  and  this  is  the  work  of 
their  every  day.  At  ten  and  four  they  go  to  prayers,  and  after 
it  sing  a  psalm  •  concluding  always  in  the  following  way.  "  May 
the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  procure  us  the  love  of  God, 
that  the  Almighty  Father  of  the  universe  may  bless  us  with  the 
heavenly  assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost." 

As  to  the  evening-office  of  devotion  at  this  place,  it  was, 
exclusive  of  the  first  address,  and  the  concluding  Lord's  Prayer, 
quite  different  from  that  of  the  morning  ;  and  because  some 
readers  may  be  pleased  with  a  sight  of  another  of  AZORA'S  religious 
compositions,  I  here  set  it  down. 

"  O  Christ,  our  blessed  mediator,  pray  for  us,  that  our  faith 
fail  not,  and  through  thy  merits  and  intercession,  Lord  Jesus, 
let  our  prayer  be  set  forth  in  the  sight  of  Almighty  God  as  incense, 
and  the  lifting  up  of  our  hands  as  an  evening-sacrifice. 

"  O  God,  who  art  the  Father  and  Lord  of  all  beings,  and  the 
eternal  and  inexhaustible  fountain  of  mercy,  we  beseech  thee 
to  be  merciful  unto  us,  and  to  blot  out  all  our  transgressions 
for  we  truly  repent  of  our  wilful  imperfections,  our  failings  and 
neglects,  in  every  instance  of  thy  law,  and  our  duty  :  and  through 
faith  we  offer  up  to  thee  the  lamb  that  was  slain  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  our  souls  :  believing  the  worthiness  of  our  Lord  Jesus  to 
be  a  full,  perfect,  and  sufficient  sacrifice,  oblation  and  atonement 
for  the  sins  of  a  repenting  world,  and  therefore  resolving,  with 
all  our  strength,  to  imitate  his  spotless  virtue  and  perfect 
obedience. 

"  Remember  not,  then,  O  Lord,  our  iniquities,  neither  take 
thou  vengeance  for  our  sins  ;  but  as  we  sincerely  believe  thy 
holy  gospel,  and  are  truly  penitent,  as  we  entirely  and  willingly 


n6  THE  LIFE  OF 


forgive  all,  who  have,  in  any  instance  or  in  any  degree,  offended, 
or  injured  us,  and  are  truly  disposed  and  ready  to  make  all  pos- 
sible reparation,  if  we  have  injured  any  one,  have  mercy  upon 
us  miserable  sinners,  and  as  thou  hast  promised  by  thy  Son, 
pardon  and  forgive  us  all  our  sins,  and  restore  us  again  to  thy 
favour.  Hear  in  heaven,  thy  dwelling  place,  and  when  thou 
hearest,  accept  us  to  thy  mercy.  O  spare  us  whom  thou  hast 
redeemed  by  thy  Son's  most  precious  blood,  and  make  us  par- 
takers of  that  salvation  which  thou  hast  appointed  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord,  and  our  souls  shall  bless  thee  to  eternity. 

"  And  that  we  may  no  more  offend  thee,  or  transgress  the  rule 
of  virtue  or  true  religion,  but  may  hereafter  truly  please  thee 
both  in  will  and  deed,  and  faithfully  observe  the  right  statutes, 
and  all  thy  precepts,  endue  us,  O  Lord  with  the  grace  of  thy  holy 
spirit,  that  we  may  amend  our  lives  according  to  thy  holy  word. 
Vouchsafe  we  beseech  thee,  to  direct,  sanctify  and  govern  both 
our  hearts  and  bodies  in  the  ways  of  thy  laws,  and  in  the  works 
of  thy  commandments  ;  and  so  teach  us  to  number  our  days 
that  we  may  apply  our  hearts  unto  wisdom,  and  mind  those 
things  which  are  in  conjunction  with  our  everlasting  welfare. 
O  let  us  be  always  imder  thy  communication  and  influence,  and 
give  that  light  to  our  minds,  that  life  to  our  souls  that  will  raise 
us  to  a  nearer  resemblance  of  thee,  and  enable  us  to  ascend  still 
higher,  towards  the  perfection  of  our  nature.  Let  us  be  trans- 
formed by  the  working  of  thy  grace  and  spirit  into  the  image  of 
thy  Son.  Conform  us  to  his  likeness,  O  blessed  God,  and  make 
us,  body  and  soul,  an  habitation  for  thyself  ;  that  in  our  hearts 
we  may  continually  offer  up  to  thee,  holy,  sublime,  and  spiritual 
sacrifices. 

"  From  all  evil  and  mischief,  good  God  deliver  us,  and  defend 
us  we  beseech  thee,  from  everything  terrible  and  hurtful.  Take 
us  under  thy  protection  the  remaining  part  of  this  day,  and  grant 
us  a  night  of  peace,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

"  And  forasmuch  as  our  earthly  house  of  this  tabernacle  shall 
be  dissolved,  and  that  in  a  few  years  at  farthest,  it  may  be  in  a 
few  minutes,  we  must  descend  to  the  bed  of  darkness,  and  acknow- 
ledge corruption  to  be  our  father,  and  the  worms  our  sister  and 
mother,  grant,  O  everlasting  God,  that  we  may  depart  in  peace, 
and  by  an  improved  principle  of  divine  life,  under  the  influence 
of  the  gospel  be  translated  to  that  eternal  world,  where  God 
dwells,  where  Christ  lives,  and  sanctified  souls  enjoy  endless  life 
and  the  purest  pleasures,  for  evermore. 

"  That  it  may  please  thee,  most  gracious  and  good  God,  to 
have  mercy  on  the  whole  race  of  mankind,  and  to  bless  them  with 
all  things  pertaining  to  life  and  godliness  :  let  the  light  of  thy 
glorious  gospel  shine  upon  the  nations  darkened  by  superstition, 
that  they  may  worship  thee  who  art  God  from  everlasting  to 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  117 

everlasting,  and  cultivate  and  establish  in  their  minds  the  most 
pure,  benevolent,  and  godlike  dispositions.  We  beseech  thee 
for  all  Christian  churches  ;  that  their  behaviour  may,  by  the 
influence  of  thy  blessed  spirit,  be  suitable  to  their  holy  profession, 
and  their  conversation  upright  and  unblamable.  Where  any 
have  departed  from  the  purity  and  simplicity  of  the  gospel,  lead 
them,  O  God,  to  the  right  practice  and  knowledge  of  their  holy 
religion  ;  and  grant  that  they  may  feel  the  comfortable  and 
sanctifying  effects  of  it ;  and  in  their  lives  show  forth  its  praise 
to  others.  We  farther  pray,  most  merciful  Father,  for  all  that 
are  destitute  or  afflicted,  either  in  body,  mind,  or  estate  ;  that 
from  Heaven,  the  habitation  of  thy  glory  and  goodness,  thou 
would  send  them  relief,  and,  if  it  be  possible,  put  an  end  to  their 
present  calamities  and  troubles.  O  thou  Father  of  mercies,  and 
God  of  all  consolation,  bind  up  the  broken  in  heart,  and  comfort 
those  that  mourn.  We  have  a  real  sense  of  the  miseries  of  the 
distressed  part  of  mankind,  and  offer  up  for  them  our  prayers 
to  thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 

A     THANKSGIVING. 

"  O  God,  the  author  of  all  good,  and  the  fountain  of  all  happi- 
ness, we  offer  up  our  thanksgivings  and  praises  unto  thee,  for 
thy  great  goodness  to  us,  and  to  all  mankind.  We  praise  and 
magnify  thy  holy  name  for  all  thy  mercies  ;  for  our  existence, 
and  the  use  of  our  reasoning  powers  and  faculties  ;  for  the  health 
and  strength  we  enjoy,  and  for  all  the  comforts  and  conveniences 
of  life  :  for  these  thy  gifts  we  adore  thee,  O  munificent  parent  of 
good,  and  pray  that  a  deep  and  efficacious  sense  of  thy  goodness 
may  remain  upon  our  hearts,  and  be  a  principle  of  constant  and 
cheerful  obedience  to  thy  holy  laws. 

"  But  especially  we  offer  up  the  acknowledgments  of  our  hearts 
and  mouths  for  all  that  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  did,  and  taught, 
and  suffered,  in  this  world,  to  save  us  from  our  sins,  and  to  con- 
duct us  to  true  and  everlasting  happiness.  We  bless  thee  for  the 
glorious  gospel,  and  for  bringing  us  more  effectually,  by  revelation , 
to  the  knowledge  of  thee,  and  the  practice  of  our  duty.  For  this 
merciful  appointment,  and  for  all  thy  mercies,  which  respect 
another  and  a  better  life  than  the  present ;  for  every  instance  of 
thy  tender  regard  to  us,  and  for  the  manifold  experiences  which 
we  have  had  of  thy  loving  kindness  ;  we  offer  up  the  tribute  of 
unfeigned  thanks.  Our  souls  do  magnify  thee,  O  Lord  God  most 
excellent  and  good,  and  all  the  powers  within  us  praise  thy  holy 
name.  To  thee  be  glory  in  the  church  by  Christ  Jesus,  throughout 
all  ages,  world  without  end.  To  thee,  O  thou  God  of  love,  be 
rendered  by  all  beings  endued  with  reason,  all  honour  and  obedi- 
ence, both  now,  and  for  ever. 

"  Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  has  promised  to  hear 


1 1  8  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  petitions  of  them  that  pray  unto  thee  in  thy  Son's  name,  we 
beseech  thee  of  thy  great  mercy,  to  accept  the  sacrifice  of  prayer 
and  praise,  which  we  have  this  evening  offered  up  to  thy  divine 
Majesty  ;  and  for  the  relief  of  our  wants,  and  the  manifestation 
of  thy  power  and  glory,  grant  us  those  things  which  we  have 
requested,  if  thou  seest  it  consistent  with  our  chief  and  eternal 
good.  In  the  name  of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  his  disciples, 
we  pray,  and  in  his  words  conclude  the  services  of  this  day. 
"  Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name,  etc." 
After  this,  they  all  stood  up,  and  as  in  the  morning,  AZORA 
said,  "  let  us  sing  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  God  the  i48th  psalm. " 
She  sung  the  first  verse  alone,  and  at  the  second,  they  all  joined, 
and  went  through  the  whole  in  a  fine  and  heavenly  manner. 
Then  the  service  concluded  with  this  benediction. 

THE    BENEDICTION. 

"  May  the  God  of  grace  and  peace  be  with  us  and  bless  us, 
May  his  holy  spirit  keep  us  from  falling,  and  preserve  us  blameless, 
unto  the  coming  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ." 

Thus  ended  the  evening  and  morning  offices  of  worship  at 
Burcot  Lodge,  and  as  I  cannot  sufficiently  praise,  so  I  could  not 
enough  admire  the  religion  and  piety  of  this  congregation.  The 
purity  of  their  worship  was  charming  :  and  in  the  ladies  and  their 
people  a  devotion  was  manifest,  that  looked  more  like  that  of 
heavenly  spirits,  than  of  beings  in  an  animal  frame  ;  who  are 
warped  with  the  customs  of  the  world,  and  perplexed  with 
difficulties  which  arise  from  sensible  objects.  They  appeared 
in  high  admiration  of  God,  endeared  to  his  righteous  government, 
devoted  to  his  holy  laws,  and  powerfully  drawn  to  imitate  him 
in  all  his  imitable  perfections.  Not  one  idle  word,  or  careless 
look,  did  I  hear  or  see  during  the  whole  time  of  divine  service  ; 
but,  like  creatures  fixed  unchangeably  in  the  interest  of  religion 
and  virtue,  and  delighted  with  the  joys  of  piety,  their  hearts 
melted  in  every  part  of  their  devotions,  and  their  breasts  were 
filled  with  the  most  grateful  transporting  adorations  and  affec- 
tions. So  much  beautiful  religion  I  had  not  often  seen  in  any 
assembly.  They  had  a  true  sense  indeed  of  the  love  and  goodness 
of  God,  and  of  the  Grace  and  charity  of  Jesus  Christ.  They  had 
all  been  carefully  instructed  by  a  wise  and  excellent  man,  who 
was  not  long  since  removed  from  them  by  death  ;  and  his  daughter 
the  admirable  AZORA,  in  conjunction  with  his  niece,  the  amiable 
ANTONIA,  took  all  possible  pains,  since  the  decease  of  Mr.  Burcot, 
to  maintain  the  power  of  religion  in  their  community,  and  keep 
the  people  hearty  and  steady  in  the  principles  and  practice  of 
it.  This  brings  me  again  to  the  history  of  AZORA. 

AZORA  BURCOT  was  the  daughter  of  a  gentleman  who  was  once 
possessed  of  a  very  great  fortune,  and  by  a  fatal  passion  for  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  119 

grand  operation,  and  an  opinion  of  the  possibility  of  finding  the 
philosopher's  stone,  he  wasted  immense  sums  in  operations  to 
discover  that  preparation,  which  forces  the  faeces  of  infused 
metals  to  retire  immediately  on  its  approach,  and  so  turns  the 
rest  of  the  mass  into  pure  gold  ;  communicating  the  malleability 
and  great  ductility  of  that  metal,  and  giving  it  true  specific 
gravity,  that  is,  to  water,  as  eighteen  and  one  half  is  to  one. 
His  love  of  that  fine,  ancient  art,  called  chymistry,  brought  him 
into  this  misfortune.  For  improvement  and  pleasure,  he  had  been 
long  engaged  in  various  experiments,  and  at  last,  an  adept  came 
to  his  house,  who  was  a  man  of  great  skill  in  the  labours  and 
operations  of  spagyrists,  and  persuaded  him  it  was  possible  to 
find  the  stone  ;  for  he,  the  adept,  had  seen  it  with  a  brother, 
who  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  discover  it,  after  much  labour 
and  operation.  The  colour  of  it  was  a  pale  brimstone  and  trans- 
parent, and  the  size  of  that  of  a  small  walnut.  He  affirmed  that 
he  had  seen  a  little  of  this  scraped  into  powder,  cast  into  some 
melted  lead,  and  turn  it  into  the  best  and  finest  gold.  This  had 
the  effect  the  adept  desired,  and  from  chymistry  brought  Mr. 
Burcot  to  alchymy.  Heaps  of  money  he  wasted  in  operations 
of  the  most  noble  elixir  by  mineral  and  salt  ;  but  the  stone  after 
all  he  could  not  find  :  and  then,  by  the  adept's  advice,  he  pro- 
ceeded in  a  second  method,  by  maturation,  to  subtilize,  purify, 
and  digest  quicksilver,  and  thereby  convert  it  into  gold.*  This 
likewise  came  to  nothing,  and  instead  of  the  gold  he  expected, 
he  had  only  heaps  of  mercury  fixed  with  verdegrease,  which  gives 

*  There  is  a  third  way  to  make  gold,  to  wit,  by  separation,  for  every  metal  contains  some 
quantity  of  gold  ;  but  the  quantity  is  so  small  that  it  bears  no  porportion  to  the  expense 
of  getting  it  out :  this  last  way  the  Spagyrists  never  attempt ;  and  as  for  the  two  other 
methods,  maturation,  and  transmuting  by  the  grand  elixir,  the  happy  hour  will  never  come, 
though  so  many  ingenious  men  have  often  thought  it  drawing  nigh.  To  console  them  for 
the  loss  of  their  fortunes  they  have  had  some  comfortable  moments  of  reflection,  that  they 
have  been  within  some  minutes  of  success,  when  crack  !  all  is  gone  and  vanished  on  a  sudden, 
and  they  have  nothing  before  them  but  cinders  and  broken  crucibles.  It  is  very  strange  then 
that  a  man  of  Dr.  Dickenson's  great  veracity  and  skill  in  chymistry,  should  affirm  the  thing 
was  actually  done  in  his  presence  by  an  adept ;  and  the  more  so,  as  his  friend,  the  Honourable 
Robert  Boyle,  told  him  the  thing  was  an  impossibility.  Dickenson's  words  are,  "  Nee  potui 
sane  quantacunque  mihi  fuerit  opinio  de  ista  re,  quin  aliquoties  animi  penderem  donee  illustris 
ea  demonstratio  quam  vestra  excellentia,  biennio  jam  elapso,  coram  exhibuit,  omnem  ansam 
dubitandi  mihi  praecidisset."  And  again  "  Plaucit  dominationi  vestrae  claro  experimento 
ante  oculos  facto  animum  meum  ad  opus  accendere  atque  ;  etiam  quaestionum  mearum 
solutiones,  quantum  licerat,  promittere."  Vide  Epistola  ad  Theod.  Mundanum  Philosophum 
Adepium,  de  Quintesstntia  Philosophorum,  de  Vera  Pkysiologia,  &c.  Oxon.  1686.  This  is  very 
surprising  ;  and  the  more  so,  as  the  greatest  watchings  and  closest  application,  in  searching 
after  the  stone,  are  all  in  vain,  unless  the  stars  shed  a  propitious  influence  on  the  labours  of 
the  Spagyrist  :  the  work  must  be  begun  and  advance  in  proper  planetary  hours,  and  depends 
as  much  on  judicial  astrology,  as  on  fire,  camphire,  salt,  labour  and  patience  :  but  judicial 
astrology  is  no  science.  It  is  a  mere  farce.  I  must  conclude  then,  that  the  hands  of  Mun- 
danus  the  adept,  were  too  quick  for  the  doctor's  eyes,  and  he  deceived  him  by  legerdemain: 
that  all  the  books  on  the  subject  are  fraudulent  descriptions  to  deceive  the  credulous  ;  and 
what  Mundanus  told  Dickenson  of  Sir  George  Ripley.  canon  of  Bridlington,  in  Yorkshire 
in  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Fourth,  and  of  Raymund  Lully,  was  mere  invention.  He  affirmed 
that  Ripley  sent  the  knights  of  Rhodes  an  hundred  thousand  pounds  to  support  them  in  their 
wars  against  the  Turks  :  and  that  Lully  assisted  Edward  I.  king  of  England,  with  six  millions 
of  gold,  towards  carrying  on  the  Crusade.  This  piece  of  secret  history  he  assures  us  he  found 
in  an  ancient  manuscript  of  indisputable  authority,  quod  inculpata  fidei  registris  innotescii  ; 


THE  LIFE  OF 


it  a  yellow  tinge,  and  more  deeply  coloured  with  turmeric.  Gold 
it  seemed,  but,  on  trial  in  the  coppel,  it  flew  away  in  fumes  and 
the  adept  made  off.  Too  late  this  good  and  learned  man  saw 
he  had  been  imposed  on,  and  that  the  Spagyrists  are  in  reality 
what  Dr.  Dickenson  calls  them,  Enigmatistinubivagi* 

Chymistry,  reader,  is  a  fine  and  ancient  art.  The  analysing 
of  sensible  bodies  by  fire,  to  discover  their  real  powers  and  virtues, 
is  highly  praiseworthy,  and  the  surprising  experiments  we  make, 
fill  the  mind  of  an  inquirer  after  truth  with  the  greatest  veneration 
for  the  wonderful  author  of  nature  ;  but  more  than  this,  is  a  sad 
romance  that  ends  in  empty  pockets.  Never  think  then  of  The 
Hermetical  Banquet,  Glauber's  Golden  Ass,  or  the  Philosopher's 
Magical  Gold.-\  By  the  law  of  honest  industry,  endeavour  to  be 
rich  if  you  can,  for  this  sole  reason,  that  it  is  more  blessed  to  give 
than  to  receive  ;  and  if  that  lies  not  within  your  capacity,  or 
means,  be  content  with  peace  and  little.  There  is  more  true 
happiness  in  daily  bread,  and  the  possession  of  the  divine  and 
social  virtues,  than  in  tons  of  gold  without  holiness  and  a  strong 
attachment  to  virtue. 

When  Mr.  Burcot  found  he  had  almost  ruined  himself,  and 
that  he  was  no  longer  able  to  live  as  he  had  done,  he  laid  his 
melancholy  case  before  his  daughter  AZORA,  and  asked  her  advice, 
what  he  should  do  ?  Her  counsel  was,  to  retire  immediately  to 
this  part  of  Stanemore,  which  was  an  unvalued  part  of  his  estate, 
and  bring  as  many  of  his  tenants  as  he  could  persuade  to  inhabit 

a  manuscript  that  no  one  ever  saw  except  Mundanus  himself ;  penes  me  indeed,  it  was  to  be 
found  only  in  his  own  head. 

Ripley  is  in  great  repute  among  the  adepts  to  this  day,  and  his  famous  unintelligible  and 
mysterious  book  is  called  A  Compound  of  Alchymie  conleyning  Twelve  Gates.  He  inscribed 
the  manuscript  to  Edward  IV.  but  the  editor  dedicated  it  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  affirming 
that  it  contained  the  right  method  of  making  the  philosopher's  stone  and  aurum  potabile. 
Lully  was  a  very  learned  man  for  the  latter  end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  wrote  several 
books  in  Latin ;  Generates  Artium  Libri.  Libri  Logicales,  Philosophici  et  Metaphisici  : 
Variarum  Artium  Libri :  Libri  Spirituals  Prcedicabiles,  and  the  Vade  Mecum  Lullii :  which 
treats  more  particularly  on  the  Philosopher's  Stone. 

*  Life  of  Edmund  Dickenson,  M.D.  Physician  in  Ordinary  to  Charles  II.,  and  James  II.  by 
William  Nicolas  Blomberg,  1739,  8vo.  p.  135.  From  this  work,  the  whole  that  has  here 
been  advanced  respecting  Alchymy,  is  extracted,  pp.  87-139. 

f  As  to  the  aurum  potabile  mentioned  by  Ripley,  which  was  then  and  long  after  esteemed 
a  panacea,  or  universal  medicine,  it  is  now  a  question  if  there  can  be  a  tincture  of  gold ;  for 
if  it  be  only  a  division  of  the  lests,  or  minims  of  gold,  by  the  spicula  of  aqua  regia,  and  these 
minims  thrown  into  oil  of  rosemary  where  they  swim,  it  is  no  radical  tincture  of  gold,  and 
the  sole  virtue  lies  in  the  oil  of  rosemary.  The  oil  may  be  evaporated  ;  the  gold  dust  remains  ; 
and  that  by  melting  is  reduced  to  a  lump  of  gold  again.  This  I  have  experimented.  But 
the  alchymists  say,  gold  may  be  reduced  into  a  gum  of  substance  like  honey,  without  any 
corrosive,  and  that  gum  steeped  in  spirit  of  wine  acquires  a  ruby  colour.  An  ounce  of  this 
is  to  be  mixed  with  sixteen  ounces  of  another  liquor,  and  we  have  aurum  polabile  ;  sovereign 
in  all  distempers.  This  seems  to  me  to  be  a  second  part  of  the  romance.  The  making  of 
this  golden  gum  is  a  secret  we  can  no  more  come  at  than  the  philosopher's  stone.  The  adepts 
however  assert  it,  and  assure  us,  that  Moses  could  make  aurum  potabile,  as  is  evident  from 
his  pulverising  the  golden  calf,  and  giving  it  to  the  children  of  Israel  to  drink.  This  great 
man,  who  wrote  540  years  before  Homer :  200  before  Sanchoniatho ;  and  350  before  the 
Trojan  war,  was,  as  they  inform  us,  an  adept. 

[The  story  of  "  pulverising  the  golden  calf,"  a  rabbinical  impertinence,  which  Calmet  in 
his  Commentaire  Literal  sur  I'Exode,  ch.  xxxii.  ver.  20.  owns  himself  ashamed  to  mention, 
as  well  as  the  probability,  that  Moses  was  an  adept,  has  met  with  a  full  investigation  in  the 
Life  of  Edmund  Dichenson,  noticed  ut  supra,  pp.  162-171.  ED.] 


JOHN  BUN  OLE,  ESQ.  121 

this  fine  tract  of  land  ;  to  sell  what  remained  of  his  fortune,  and 
with  the  money  procure  as  many  of  the  necessaries  or  comforts 
of  living  as  could  be  had,  to  get  in  particular  some  young  trades- 
men and  their  wives  by  offered  rewards  in  this  place  ;  to  build 
cottages  for  the  people  ;  and  render  the  fine  caverns  in  the  rock 
as  habitable  and  pleasing  for  themselves  as  art  could  render 
them.  "  Here,"  said  AZORA,  "  we  shall  live  more  happy  than 
we  could  do,  if  still  possessed  of  a  fortune  to  make  an  appearance 
in  the  world.  We  shall  enjoy  by  industry  and  prudence  every 
good  thing  that  rational  life  can  require,  and  live  secured  from 
the  strokes  of  fortune,  and  the  world's  contempt.  Strangers  to 
vanity  and  the  pleasures  of  high  life,  in  this  delightful  retreat, 
we  shall  pass  our  happy  days  as  in  a  region  of  goodness,  know- 
ledge, and  joy  ;  and  the  predominant  bent  of  our  hearts  will  be 
to  wisdom,  and  virtue,  and  to  ascend  into  the  realms  of  perfect 
day."  "  Happy  advice,"  the  father  of  AZORA  said,  and  the  thing 
was  immediately  done.  A  colony  was  quickly  established  here, 
and  everything  was  settled  and  ordered  in  the  most  advantageous 
manner.  Cattle,  instruments,  and  grain  to  sow  the  land  were 
sent  in  ;  clothes  and  every  material  the  little  republic  could  want 
were  provided,  and  every  hand  was  as  useful  as  we  could  wish. 
"  For  four  years,"  AZORA  continued  to  inform  me,  "  we  lived 
in  peace  and  tranquillity,  and  never  once  regretted  the  loss  of 
our  fortunes.  We  were  happier  far  than  when  we  had  thousands. 
Industry,  knowledge,  and  religion,  were  our  employment.  The 
night  to  come  of  pain  and  death  gave  us  no  uneasiness.  We 
lived  as  the  Christians  of  the  first  two  centuries,  and  rather  longed 
for  than  feared  that  event,  which  is  to  remove  us  to  growing 
brightness  for  ever  and  ever.  But  a  fever  came  in  among  us  and 
swept  away  my  father,  and  every  man  of  our  little  republic, 
several  women  likewise,  perished  ;  but  a  hundred  souls  remained. 
Ninety-eight  women,  besides  ANTONIA  and  AZORA.  These  loved 
me  too  well,"  she  continued,  "  to  abandon  me  ;  and  as  they  were 
happily  situated,  and  many  of  them  had  learned  their  husbands 
trades,  they  agreed  and  swore  to  spend  their  lives  with  me  here 
and  be  as  serviceable  as  possible,  without  admitting  any  men  to 
live  among  us.  They  are  so  in  the  highest  degree  :  they  are  all 
useful  and  pious  as  I  could  wish  them,  and  under  the  heavens 
there  is  not  a  happier  society  of  mortals.  We  have  the  best  of 
everything  :  all  we  want,  and  in  reason  could  wish  for." 

Here  AZORA  ended  her  relation,  and  I  wondered  greatly  at 
what  I  heard  ;  nor  did  my  admiration  lessen  when  I  saw  how  she 
governed  this  community,  and  they  employed  their  time.  Her 
great  understanding  enlightened  and  directed  them,  in  the 
execution  of  everything  serviceable  and  ingenious  ;  and  she  lived 
before  their  eyes  an  example  of  the  greatest  industry,  and  the 
most  exalted  piety.  They,  on  the  other  hand,^were  as  useful 


122  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  religious  as  possible,  and  so  heartily  and  faithfully  discharged 
social  duties,  in  every  instance,  that  they  seemed  as  one  great 
capacity  and  power  at  work,  to  promote  every  convenience  and 
good.  Some  of  them,  as  I  have  said,  were  at  work  in  the  gardens  : 
others  in  the  fields  :  various  trades  and  occupations  were  going 
on  within  doors  and  without,  and  all  were  employed  in  ways  that 
best  subserved  the  general  welfare.  In  their  behaviour,  there 
was  nothing  wild,  insolent,  or  arch,  to  be  seen  :  no  swellings  of 
vanity  and  pride  :  no  passion  to  disoblige  :  no  intention  to  offend  : 
but,  every  one,  discreet  and  calm  ;  good-humoured,  and  very 
civil  ;  worthily  sustaining  their  various  relations,  and  each  atten- 
tive to  her  own  incumbent  duty.  Their  labours  were  but  a 
diversion  to  them,  and  they  lived  in  tranquillity  and  plenty. 
Their  clothing  was  coarse,  but  very  good,  clean,  and  handsome. 
There  was  not  one  ragged  or  dirty  person  among  them  ;  nor  any 
with  bad  shoes  and  stockings.  In  all  respects  they  seemed  a 
most  happy  community.  AZORA  studied,  to  the  utmost  degree, 
the  advantage  and  happiness  of  these  people  :  and  they,  in  return, 
made  their  duty  a  vigorous  and  cheerful  service.  Most  of  the 
conveniences  and  comforts  of  life  they  had  within  their  own  little 
territory  ;  flesh  and  fish,  mutton,  kid,  and  venison  ;  corn  for 
bread,  every  vegetable  ;  malt-drink,  meath,  and  cyder  ;  all  in 
great  plenty,  and  most  excellent ;  wool  and  flax  for  clothing  ; 
good  candles  ;  and  wood  enough  for  firing.  What  things  they 
wanted  two  of  them  rode  for  to  the  nearest  town,  and  not  only 
purchased  such  goods  with  the  money  they  got  by  sale  of  several 
commodities,  especially  knit  thread  stockings  and  gloves  ;  but 
always  at  such  times  brought  in  some  cash  to  their  mistress, 
and  she  gave  part  of  it  among  the  people,  to  buy  them  little 
things  they  fancied. 

As  to  the  ten  young  women  I  mentioned,  who  walked  after 
Azora  when  first  I  saw  her,  they  were  the  daughters  of  some 
widows  in  this  little  republic,  and  by  her  chosen,  not  only  to  be 
her  attendants  and  upper  servants,  and  to  look  after  her  dairy, 
her  bees,  her  poultry,  and  her  aviary  ;  which  was  the  finest  I  have 
ever  seen,  for  the  variety  of  birds,  and  as  it  was  turfed,  to  avoid 
the  appearance  of  foulness  on  the  floor,  and  so  large  as  to  give  the 
birds  some  freedom  of  flight  ;  but,  on  account  of  their  good 
understanding,  in  which  they  far  excelled  their  fellows.  These 
girls  were  carefully  instructed  by  AZORA  and  ANTONIA,  and  beside 
being  taught  the  fine  works  of  the  needle,  learned  music,  and  the 
elements  of  the  mathematics  from  the  ladies.  The  eldest  of 
these  girls  was  but  twenty,  and  the  youngest  eighteen,  and  they 
all  surprised  me  very  greatly  with  their  quickness  in  answering 
very  hard  arithmetical  questions.  They  could  not  only  add, 
subtract,  multiply,  divide,  find  a  fourth  proportional,  and  extract 
roots  of  every  kind  with  exactness  and  readiness,  and  apply 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  123 

them  upon  all  common  occasions  ;  but  were  perfect  in  fractions 
vulgar  and  decimal.  They  had  even  gone  as  far  in  algebra  as 
the  resolution  of  simple  equations. 

Finding  them  one  morning  at  figures,  I  asked  the  youngest  of 
them,  what  was  the  number,  that  f  of  it  with  4  over,  amounted 

to  the  same  as  Z-  of  it  with  9  over  ?     She  immediately  translated 

the  question  from  common  language  into  algebra  —  +  4  =   7— 
+9  :  and  quickly  discovered  the  unknown  quantity  x  to  be  x  =60  : 
Then  she  took  it  in  synthetically,  f  of  60  =  40  +  4  =  44  :  —  of 

60  =35  +9=44- — (Synthetically  is  tracing  property  from  number  : 
— Analytically  is  tracing  number  from  property).  This  made 
me  wonder  very  greatly.  I  asked  another  of  them,  if  she  bought 
20  loaves  for  16  pence,  all  of  them  twopenny,  penny,  and  farthing 
ones — how  many  would  she  have  of  each  ?  She  answered  5 
twopenny  loaves,  3  penny  ones,  and  12  farthing  loaves  ;  for  the 
equations  were  x  +y  +z  =20  and  8x  +^y  =z  =64.  From  whence 

by  subtraction,  7* +3^=44,  and  of  consequence,  y  =  44  -  7  + 

=  14-2*  +  2~* '. 
3 

I  asked  a  third,  how  many  ways  she  could  pay  2O/.  in  pistoles, 
guineas,  and  moidores,  at  175.,  2 is.  and  275.  the  pistole,  the 
guinea,  and  the  moidore  ?.  She  replied  in  a  very  little  time, 
9  ways,  to  wit,  1 1  pistoles,  5  guineas,  and  4  moidores — 8  pistoles, 
i  guinea,  9  moidores — 8  pistoles,  10  guineas,  2  moidores — 17 
pistoles,  4  guineas,  i  moidore — 2  pistoles,  2  guineas,  1 2  moidores 
— 2  pistoles,  ii  guineas,  5  moidores — 5  pistoles,  6  guineas,  7 
moidores — 5,  15,  o — and  14  pistoles,  o  guineas,  6  moidores. 
This  was  a  hard  operation. 

I  asked  another  of  these  young  women,  if  her  lady  gave  her 
297  guineas  and  339  pistoles,  to  pay  6  men  a  hundred  pounds 
apiece  in  guineas  and  pistoles  only,  as  was  agreed,  how  could  she 
contrive  to  pay  them,  and  dispatch  the  thing  ?  I  will  tell  you, 
sir,  she  answered,  very  soon,  x  represents  my  guineas,  and  y 

my  pistoles,  and  2ix  -f 17^  =  2,000,  of  consequence,  x  =  — 

=  95  +5  ~  I7y  ,  etc.  and  quickly  discovered,  that  the  first  man 

should  have  92  guineas  and  4  pistoles: — the  second  man,  75  guineas 
and  25  pistoles  : — the  third,  58  guineas,  45  pistoles  : — the  fourth, 
41  guineas  and  67  pistoles  : — the  fifth,  24  guineas  and  88  pistoles  : 
—and  the  sixth  man,  7  guineas  and  109  pistoles.  This  was 
admirable.  But  is  there  no  other  way,  I  said,  of  paying  lool  in 


124  THE  LIFE  OF 


guineas  and  pistoles,  besides  the  six  ways  you  have  mentioned  ? 
There  is  no  other  way,  the  fine  girl  answered.  If  a  seventh  man 
was  to  be  paid  ioo/.  in  these  two  kinds  of  money,  he  must  be 
paid  in  one  of  these  six  methods.  This  was  true.  I  was  charmed 
with  what  I  heard. 

While  I  was  thus  engaged  with  the  maids,  AZORA  and  ANTONIA 
came  into  the  room,  and  finding  how  I  had  been  employed,  they 
began  to  talk  of  problems,  theorems,  and  equations,  and  soon 
convinced  me,  that  I  was  not  superior  to  them  in  this  kind  of 
knowledge  ;  though  I  had  studied  it  for  a  much  longer  time,  and 
had  taken  more  pains  than  ever  they  did.  Their  fine  under- 
standings saw  at  once  the  things  that  made  me  sweat  many  an 
hour,  and  in  less  time  than  I  required  for  an  operation,  they  could 
answer  the  most  difficult  questions,  and  do  anything  in  simple 
quadratic  equations,  and  in  the  composition  and  resolution  of 
ratios.  This  I  thought  very  wonderful ;  especially  as  they  had 
been  taught  no  longer  than  one  year  by  Mr.  Burcot ;  and  that 
they  had  acquired  the  most  abtruse  part  of  their  knowledge  by 
their  own  application.  I  note  the  thing  down  as  one  of  the 
strangest  and  most  extraordinary  cases  that  ever  came  in  my 
way  :  perhaps,  that  ever  was  heard.  It  is  such  a  specimen  of 
female  understanding,  as  must  for  ever  knock  up  the  positive 
assertions  of  some  learned  men,  who  will  not  allow  that  women 
have  as  strong  reasoning  heads  as  the  men. 

By  the  way,  I  observe,  exclusive  of  these  two  ladies  that  I  have 
seen  many  of  the  sex  who  were  distinguished  for  accuracy  and 
comprehensiveness,  not  only  in  the  science,  where  known  and 
required  quantities  are  denoted  by  letters,  but  in  other  fine  parts 
of  learning  I  have  little  right  to  pretend  to  anything  extra- 
ordinary in  understanding,  as  my  genius  is  slow,  and  such  is 
common  in  the  lower  classes  of  men  of  letters  ;  yet,  my  application 
has  been  very  great  :  my  whole  life  has  been  spent  in  reading 
and  thinking  :  and,  nevertheless,  I  have  met  with  many  women , 
in  my  time,  who,  with  very  little  reading  have  been  too  hard  for 
me  on  several  subjects.  In  justice,  I  declare  this  ;  and  am  very 
certain  from  what  I  have  heard  numbers  of  them  say,  and  seen 
some  of  them  write,  that  if  they  had  the  laboured  education  the 
men  have,  and  applied  to  books  with  all  possible  attention  for 
as  many  years  as  we  do  ;  there  would  be  found  among  them  as 
great  divines  as  Episcopius,  Limborch,  Whichcote,  Barrow, 
Tillotson,  and  Clarke  ;  and  as  great  mathematicians,  as  M'Laurin, 
Saunderson,  and  Simpson.  The  critics  may  laugh  at  this  asser- 
tion, I  know  they  will  :  and,  if  they  please,  they  may  doubt  my 
veracity  as  to  what  I  relate  of  the  two  ladies,  and  the  ten  young 
women,  in  Burcot-Hamlet ;  but  what  I  say  is  true  notwith- 
standing. Facts  are  things  too  stubborn  to  be  destroyed  by 
laughing  and  doubting. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  125 

As  to  the  ladies  I  have  mentioned,  they  both  did  wonders  in 
specious  arithmetic  ;  but  AZORA  was  the  brightest  of  the  two,  and 
in  pure  algebra,  had  gone  much  farther  than  ANTONIA.  With 
wonder  I  beheld  her,  while  she  answered  the  most  difficult  ques- 
tions as  fast  as  fingers  could  move  ;  and  in  the  solution  of  cubics, 
and  the  resolution  of  equations,  both  according  to  Des  Cartes, 
laborious  method,  and  the  better  universal  way,  by  converging 
series,  work  with  a  celerity  and  truth  beyond  what  I  have  ever 
seen  any  man  do.  Nor  was  it  only  algebra  independent  of 
geometry  that  she  understood.  She  could  apply  its  reasoning 
to  geometrical  figures,  and  describe  the  loci  of  any  equations  by 
the  mechanical  motion  of  angles  and  lines.  She  was  in  this 
respect  the  greatest  prodigy  I  ever  saw. 

But  it  was  not  on  account  of  this  excellence  that  I  so  much 
admired  AZORA,  and  honour  her  memory  so  greatly  as  I  do  ;  nor 
because  she  talked  so  excellently  on  various  subjects,  as  I  have 
related  ;  but,  for  her  knowledge  of  the  truths  of  Christianity,  and 
the  habits  of  goodness  she  had  wrought  into  her  soul ;  for  the 
care  she  took  of  the  people  under  her  government,  by  communi- 
cating every  felicity  in  her  power,  to  their  bodies  and  minds  ; 
and  the  pure  religion  of  Christ  Jesus,  which  she  publicly  main- 
tained, in  all  the  beauty  of  holiness  and,  in  a  just  fervour  of 
practice.  She  was  herself,  in  her  manners  and  piety,  a  fine  copy 
of  those  blessed  women  who  conversed  with  our  Lord  and  his 
apostles  :  and  her  society,  in  innocence  and  goodness,  in  useful- 
ness and  devotion,  seemed  an  epitome  of  the  first  Christian 
church  at  Jerusalem.  Under  a  just  impression  of  the  most 
heavenly  principles  they  all  lived,  and  strictly  regarded  their 
several  offices.  As  the  gospel  directs,  they  worshipped  a  first 
cause,  the  Deity,  as  the  disciples  of  the  Christ  of  God,  our  holy 
mediator  ;  and  the  authority  of  a  being  of  infinite  wisdom,  and 
unchangeable  rectitude  of  nature,  had  made  such  an  impression 
upon  their  minds,  that  they  laboured  continually  to  acquire 
that  consecration  and  sanctity  of  heart  and  manners,  which  our 
divine  religion  requires.  Excellent  community  !  happy  would 
Europe  be,  if  all  her  states  were  like  this  people.  A  false  religion 
would  not  then  prevail ;  nor  would  superstition  be  the  idol  to 
which  the  world  bows  down.  The  evils,  which  now  dishonour 
human  nature,  and  infest  society,  would  not  be  seen  among  us  ; 
nor  those  excesses  of  passion  be  known,  which  are  the  parent  of 
discord  and  calamity,  and  render  this  lower  world  one  scene  of 
sin  and  sorrow  :  but,  as  revelation  inculcates,  as  reason  suggests, 
mankind  would  worship  the  Almighty  Principle,  the  One  God, 
the  Only  True  God,  with  a  worship  suitable  to  the  nature  of  a 
Being,  who  is  not  confined  to,  or  dependent  upon,  particular 
places  and  circumstances,  who  is  always,  and  everywhere  present 
with  us  ;  and  like  the  ministers  attending  on  the  glorious  throne 


126  THE  LIFE  OF 


of  the  Monarch  of  the  world,  they  would,  according  to  our  measure, 
be  pure,  benevolent  mortals,  and  as  perfect  in  goodness,  as  men 
can  be  within  the  degree  and  limit  of  their  nature.  In  a  word, 
the  supreme  Father  of  all  things  would  then  be  the  God  of  all 
Christians  ;  and  in  doing  his  will,  in  imitating  his  perfections, 
and  in  practising  everything  recommended  by  the  great  and 
universal  law  of  reason,  that  law  which  God  sent  our  Lord  to 
revive  and  enforce  ;  they  would  find  the  greatest  pleasure.  Such 
were  the  people  of  Burcot-Hamlet.  AZORA  and  ANTONIA  were 
indeed  most  glorious  women.* 

*  AZORA  BURCOT  died  in  1732,  six  years  after  I  left  them,  but  ANTONIA  FLETCHER  was 
[1756]  living  in  the  same  happy  situation ;  and  by  advising  the  young  women  to  marry 
some  young  men  of  those  mountains,  has  made  an  alteration  in  the  community  for  the  better, 
and  encreased  the  number  of  her  people.  The  settlement  is  now  like  to  continue,  and  they 
find  many  advantages  from  having  men  among  them.  The  rising  generation  thereby 
acquired,  now  proves  a  blessing  to  the  first  colony,  whom  years  have  rendered  much  weaker 
and  dependent  than  when  I  first  saw  them.  AZORA,  a  little  before  she  died,  did  intend  to 
get  in  a  recruit  of  female  children  for  the  support  of  the  society :  but  ANTONIA  judged  it 
was  much  better  to  let  the  young  girls  of  the  community  get  honest  youths  for  their  spouses  ; 
for,  by  this  means,  they  can  never  want  young  people  to  assist  and  comfort  them,  and  to 
encrease  and  perpetuate  their  happy  republic.  For  these  reasons,  she  sent  for  some  young 
men  to  several  neighbouring  villages  in  Richmondshire,  to  make  several  things  wanting 
and  to  dig,  and  work  in  the  gardens,  for  so  much  by  the  year  certain ;  and  as  they  were 
smitten  with  the  clean,  civil  girls  of  Burcot-Hamlet,  several  marriages  soon  ensued,  and 
infants  were  produced  before  the  twelve  months  had  expired.  More  than  half  of  the  twenty 
women  that  married,  had  twins  the  first  year,  and  all  of  them  had  strong  healthy  children. 
The  ten  extraordinary  girls  I  mentioned,  got  very  good  husbands,  and  as  ANTONIA  was 
particularly  kind  to  them  on  their  marrying,  and  gave  to  all  the  wedded  folks  great  encourage- 
ment in  profitable  gardens  and  houses,  grain  and  cattle,  they  and  their  spouses  became  rather 
more  dutiful  and  useful  to  their  mistress  and  ruler  than  otherwise,  and  in  gratitude,  and  for 
the  sake  of  their  children,  did  their  best  to  please  Mrs.  FLETCHER,  and  encrease  the  common 
felicity.  In  this  condition  I  found  them  on  my  second  arrival  at  Burcot-Hamlet.  They 
were  a  flourishing  village,  and  a  most  happy  people.  My  second  visit  was  in  1739,  fourteen 
years  after  the  first ;  and  I  saw  them  a  third  time  in  1752.  They  were  then  all  well,  and 
enjoyed  every  comfort  of  life  that  can  proceed  from  good  and  useful  manners.  Mrs.  FLETCHER  , 
though  now  in  years,  has  no  sign  of  age  in  her  constitution,  and  still  leads  a  most  active  and 
pious  life.  She  is  a  subaltern  providence  to  them,  and  with  the  tenderest  care,  makes  it  the 
labour  of  her  every  day  to  secure  and  advance  the  temporal  and  eternal  interest  of  the  people  : 
but  their  souls  are  her  main  care.  She  performs  to  them  divine  service  twice  every  day,  as 
good  AZORA  was  wont  to  do.  She  reads  the  best  sermons  to  the  aged,  and  constantly  catechises 
the  young  ones.  She  is  a  blessed  woman. 

By  the  way,  reader,  I  must  observe  to  you,  that  in  travelling  over  that  part  of  Richmond- 
shire,  which  is  called  Stanemore,  I  found  several  small  villages,  that  are  not  mentioned  in 
Camden,  or  the  Britannia  Antiqua  et  Nova,  or  in  England's  Gazetteer  :  and  though  not  so  pretty 
and  happy  as  Burcot  in  the  northern  end  of  the  fells  of  Westmoreland ;  yet  in  tolerable 
condition,  and  remarkable  on  account  of  several  things  and  people  ;  though  they  live  entirely 
on  what  their  spot  affords,  and  have  little  communication  with  their  countrymen  beyond 
the  mountains  that  separate  the  inhabitants  of  Stanemore  from  the  rest  of  England.  I 
took  notice,  in  particular,  that  although  those  poor  remote  people  had  not  faculties  adapted 
to  large  measures  of  knowledge,  nor  have  ministers  to  teach  them,  or  churches  to  pray  in ; 
yet  they  were  not  alienated  from  the  taste  and  feelings  of  humanity,  nor  strangers  to  the 
momentous  principles  of  true  Christianity.  They  had  the  Bible,  and  could  read  it.  They 
instructed  their  children  in  virtue  and  religion,  and  lived  themselves  as  the  intelligent  subjects 
of  an  Almighty  Governor ;  in  a  firm  belief  that  God  will  distinguish  the  virtue  and  the 
offence  of  mankind  hereafter,  by  suitable  tokens  of  his  favour,  or  displeasure.  All  this  I 
saw  in  several  villages  of  Stanemore-mountains.  I  lived  for  some  time  among  the  poor 
people  :  and  I  mention  their  case  here,  that  you  may  have  the  less  reason  to  imagine  there 
is  anything  incredible  in  my  account  of  the  extraordinary  state  of  Burcot-Hamlet. 

As  to  the  Stanemore-part  of  Richmondshire,  Camden,  and  the  authors  of  the  other 
Britannia,  and  the  tourmen,  &c.  never  so  much  as  saw  this  country  at  a  distance,  I  am 
very  sure.  The  very  little  they  say  of  it  is  false  and  ridiculous.  Camden  places  Bows  before 
Gretabridge.  He  says,  in  this  desolate  and  solitary,  this  mountainous  and  vast  tract  called 
Stanemore,  there  is  but  one  inn  in  the  middle  of  it  for  the  entertainment  of  travellers,  whereas, 
in  truth,  there  is  no  inn  at  all  in  what  is  properly  called  Stanemore  :  the  inn  Camden  speaks  of 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  127 

The  1 8th  of  June,  1725,  I  took  my  leave  of  Mrs.  BURCOT  and 
Mrs.  FLETCHER,  for  so  they  would  be  called,  as  they  informed 
me,  after  I  had  once  used  the  word  Miss  ;  and  from  this  fine  place, 
proceeded  on  my  journey,  by  a  paper  of  written  directions  I  had 
received  from  them  :  as  there  was  a  pretty  good,  though  a  long 
and  tedious  way  out  of  the  mountains,  if  a  traveller  knew  the 
passes  and  turnings  ;  but  otherwise,  it  was  either  impossible  to 
go  on  ;  or  a  man  must  journey  at  the  hazard  of  his  life  a  thousand 
times  a  day,  in  crossing  waters  and  precipices. 

Our  first  labour  was  to  ascend  a  very  narrow  steep  way  in  the 
side  of  a  mountain,  which  went  up  due  north  for  a  full  mile,  and 
brought  us  to  another  large,  standing,  black  and  unfathomable 

is  the  Bell  I  mentioned  before,  where  I  breakfasted  with  Miss  MELMOTH  ;  and  lies  on  the  left 
side  of  a  fine  turnpike  road  from  Bows  to  Brugh,  in  Westmorland,  the  high-way  to  Carlisle  ; 
but  though  this  road  is  a  part  of  Stanemore,  running  in  a  direct  line  from  Gretabridge  through 
Bows  to  Brugh,  eighteen  miles  of  delightful  ground,  both  on  account  of  the  excellence  of  the 
way,  and  the  fine  views  of  mountains  and  vales  on  either  hand,  for  twelve  miles,  from  a  beau- 
tiful ruin  of  a  Roman  castle  at  the  end  of  the  town,*  yet  this  is  but  the  southern  beginning 
of  Stanemore.  That  vast  tract  of  mountains,  glens,  and  valleys,  forest/rock,  and  water, 
the  most  wonderful  land  in  the  world,  for  forty  miles  to  the  end  of  the  country,  if  it  was 
possible  to  go  straight  on,  lies  on  the  right  hand  of  this  road,  as  you  ride  to  Brugh  under 
Stanemore ;  or,  on  your  left,  as  you  come  from  Westmoreland  to  Catarracton  or  Catarrick. 
Here,  by  the  way,  let  me  tell  you,  Reader,  lives  RALPH  HAWKWELL,  who  keeps  an  excellent 
house,  where  you  may  get  choice  things,  after  a  ride  of  twenty  two  miles,  if  you  come  from 
Boroughbridge  to  go  to  the  north  ;  or  of  fifteen  miles,  if  from  Greta-bridge,  for  the  south ; 
provided  you  have  the  rem  ;  and  if  you  have  not,  though  you  were  an  apostle  of  a  man 
RALPH  would  have  very  little  regard  for  you.  Indeed,  every  where  in  the  north,  where  the 
best  of  things  are  to  be  had,  I  have  always  found  travelling  there  as  expensive  as  near  London. 
Many  I  know  give  a  different  account,  but  the  reason  is,  either  they  never  were  there ;  or 
they  travel  in  a  pilgrim-like  manner.  You  must  take  care,  then,  to  have  money  enough, 
if  ever  you  undertake  the  northern  expedition  I  have  frequently  gone  upon  :  and  as  it  is  not 
safe  carrying  much  cash  with  you,  for  there  are  rogues  in  that  part  of  the  world,  as  well  as 
in  this ;  they  rob  even  on  Stanemore  road ;  and  in  riding  over  the  great  moor  that  lies 
between  Brugh  and  Appleby,  there  is  a  little  ale-house  to  be  seen  at  a  good  distance,  on  the 
right  hand,  at  the  entrance  of  a  wood,  at  the  bottom  of  a  range  of  vast  fells,  where  highwaymen 
sometimes  resort ;  I  was  pursued  by  two  of  them,  not  long  ago,  and  to  the  excellence  of  my 
horse,  owed  the  saving  of  my  purse,  and  perhaps  my  life  •  they  were  well  mounted,  but  I 
kept  an  hundred  yards  ahead  of  them  for  several  miles,  while,  as  fast  as  they  could  stretch 
away,  they  chased  me  till  near  the  town  of  Brugh.  I  was  all  alone,  my  fellow  having  received 
a  mischief,  and  being  obliged  to  stay  a  day  behind  ;  and  the  rogues  did  swear  and  hoot  most 
horribly,  and  fired  three  shots  at  me ;  but  my  horse  was  as  good  as  ever  spanked  it  along, 
and  I  cut  him  up,  and  pricked  him  over  the  turf,  like  the  wind  away.  I  say,  then,  as  it  is 
not  safe  travelling  with  all  the  money  necessary  for  such  a  long  journey,  the  best  way  is, 
when  cash  runs  low,  to  lie  by  to  rest  for  a  week,  and  put  your  notes  in  order,  in  some  town 
and  by  one  of  the  dealers,  or  manufacturers  of  the  place,  draw  on  your  friend,  or  goldsmith 
in  London,  for  what  you  want,  and  by  the  return  of  the  post,  you  will  be  paid  the  money 
where  you  are.  In  this  manner  I  did,  when  I  was  last  at  Richmond,  in  the  north-riding  of 
Yorkshire.  Being  in  want  of  money,  I  asked  a  gentleman  with  whom  I  chanced  to  dine 

*  By  the  way,  I  suspect  from  Bishop  Horsley's  account  of  the  Roman  castle  or  station 
that  he  never  was  on  the  spot,  but  had  his  relation  from  the  surveyor  he  sent  out  to  find  the 
length  of  this  Roman  wall,  and  take  other  dimensions  and  notes  for  his  Britannia  Romana 
I  mean  Mr.  Cay,  who  published  the  late  map  of  Northumberland,  which  Bishop  Horsley 
employed  him  to  make.  He  does  not  describe  the  fort  and  situation,  and  the  adjacent 
country,  as  if  he  had  been  there  himself  :  nor  can  I  think  he  ever  rode  from  this  castle  to 
Brugh  or  Burgh  under  Stanemore,  or  from  Brugh,  the  Roman  Veterse,  to  Brovocum,  now 
Brougham-Castle,  a  great  and  curious  Roman  ruin.  The  finest  things  relating  to  them,  he 
has  omitted,  and  many  antiquities  that  are  to  be  found  in  off-sets  by  the  way.  I  question, 
likewise,  if  ever  he  saw  with  his  own  eyes,  the  eastern  and  western  terminations  of  the  Roman 
wall.  If  he  was  at  Newcastle,  and  really  did  ride  over  Lonsdale  marsh  to  Tunnocelum,  a 
marsh  where  I  had  like  to  have  lost  my  life  ;  it  is  surprising  that  a  man  of  his  understanding 
and  taste  for  antiquities,  should  give  no  better  account  of  these  places.  For  my  part,  I  could 
not  see.what  he  saw  :  nor  did  he  see  what  I  saw  at  the^end  of  the  town  of  Boulness. 


128  THE  LIFE  OF 


water,  on  the  top  of  this  high  hill.  There  was  no  appearance  of 
any  feeders  to  supply  this  frightful  lake,  and  therefore,  and  on 
account  of  its  blackness,  the  surface  must  communicate  with  the 
abyss.  From  this  water  we  rode  due  east  for  half  an  hour,  and 
then  descended  to  a  sandy  valley,  where  flames  were  rising  from 
the  ground.  The  fire  came  up  without  noise,  smoke,  or  smell, 
and  appeared  to  me  very  wonderful ;  but  such  things  are  common 
in  many  parts  of  the  world.  In  the  side  of  one  of  the  Apennines, 
I  have  seen  a  large  blazing  vale.  The  learned  tell  us,  this  is 
owing  to  rich  veins  of  bitumen,  which  crops  in  such  places,  and 
the  heat  of  the  air  between  the  hills,  in  shallow  valleys,  causes  it 
to  burn.  This  crop  of  bitumen,  and  accension  by  the  agitation 

how  I  could  supply  myself  with  £20  by  draft  on  one  in  the  capital ;  and  he  directed  me  to 
his  neighbour,  who  let  me  have  what  I  had  occasion  for  at  moderate  exchange,  as  soon  as  he 
heard  from  his  friend  in  London.  I  might  have  had  any  money  I  named  in  this  way  ;  and 
so,  in  other  places  of  trade. 

I  hope,  reader,  you  will  excuse  this  little  digression,  because  it  is  meant  well ;  and  for 
the  same  reason,  I  imagine  you  will  pardon  me  for  advising  you,  in  the  next  place,  should 
the  fates  ever  bring  you  to  Catarractonium,  in  order  to  proceed  to  the  northern  extremity 
of  our  country  ;  to  go  four  miles  out  of  your  way  to  see  Richmond  town,  before  you  set  out 
for  Gretabridge,  to  J OSEPH  MARSHALL'S  ;  the  best  house  of  the  two  inns  there.  The  delightful 
romantic  situation  of  Richmond,  and  the  fine  curiosities  about  the  town,  will  afford  you  an 
agreeable  entertainment  for  a  couple  of  days  ;  and  if  you  like  going  at  night  to  a  club  of 
very  worthy,  sensible  men  of  this  town,  who  are  very  civil  to  strangers,  you  may  pass  the 
evening  in  a  very  pleasing  way  ;  or  if  you  have  a  taste  for  dancing,  and  prefer  the  conversation 
of  a  fine  girl  to  a  pipe  and  more  serious  discourse,  there  is  a  small  polite  assembly  of  as  pretty 
women  as  ever  gladdened  the  heart  of  man.  My  method,  while  there,  was  to  smoke  one  night 
with  the  club  ;  and  the  next  I  devoted  to  the  ladies.  We  made  up  ten  couple,  and  had  the 
hemp-dressers  one  night,  which  is,  you  know,  it  you  are  a  dancing  reader,  the  most  difficult, 
and  laborious  of  all  the  country  dances  ;  and  no  where  have  I  seen  the  ground  more  actively 
beat,  or,  in  juster  measure.  Life  and  truth  and  charms  were  in  perfection  in  those  Richmond 
girls.  I  was  there  in  1729,  1737,  and  again  in  1752,  and  the  sensible  club,  and  bright  assembly, 
were  still  in  being ;  but  no  more  than  three  did  I  see,  of  men  or  women,  in  37,  that  were 
there  in  29  ;  and  in  52,  they  were  all  strangers  to  me.  Some  were  married  away  ;  some  had 
removed ;  and  others  were  translated  to  the  shades  of  eternity.  This  was  to  me  a  moral 
lesson.  When  I  looked  round  the  assembly  room  the  last  time  I  was  there,  and  found  every 
glorious  girl  of  my  acquaintance  was  gone,  and  that  years  had  rendered  me  almost  unfit 
to  join  with  the  ladies  then  present,  in  the  dancings  of  the  night,  a  philosophical  sadness 
came  powerfully  upon  my  mind,  and  I  could  not  help  sighing  in  the  midst  of  harmony,  and 
a  blaze  of  charms.  This  life,  I  saw  was  a  fleeting  scene  indeed. 

And  now,  reader,  as  to  the  Stanemore-country,  if  it  should  ever  come  into  your  head,  to 
wander  over  this  wild  and  romantic  part  of  our  world,  at  the  hazard  of  your  neck,  and  the 
danger  of  being  starved,  your  route  is,  when  you  have  passed  the  turnpike  on  Stanemore, 
in  your  way  to  Brugh,  to  turn  off  to  the  right,  beyond  the  public-house,  and  ascend  a  fine 
rising  valley  you  will  see  between  two  mountains,  till  you  come  to  the  top  of  the  first  hills  : 
then  proceed,  if  you  can,  in  the  course  I  have  described,  and  wherever  it  is  in  your  power, 
tend  to  the  north-east,  for  that  is  the  way  out.  This  is  one  way  into  the  heart  of  Stanemore 
in  Richmondshire,  and  will  bring  you,  by  the  way,  among  the  dreadful  northern  fells  of 
Westmoreland ;  a  frightful  country,  and  a  fatiguing  march. 

Another  way  to  the  Stanemore  Alps,  is  behind  JACK  RAILTON'S,  the  Quaker's  house  at 
Bows.  Hire  a  guide  from  him,  and  his  man  will  bring  you  as  he  did  me  once  through  a  very 
surprising  way  of  deep  bottoms  to  a  public  house  at  Eggleston,  on  the  border  of  Richmona- 
Stanemore.  There  rest  that  night,  and  early  the  next  morning,  proceed  due  north,  when 
you  can,  with  another  guide,  and  you  will  come  to  mountains  upon  mountains,  rapid  rivers 
and  headlong  torrents,  that  form  amazing  and  tremendous  scenes.  Or,  as  this  way  is  neither 
comfortable,  nor  very  safe,  it  is  a  better  road  to  the  confines,  or  beginning  of  Stanemore, 
to  ride  from  Gretabridge  to  Bernard  Castle,  and  from  Bernard  Castle  to  Eggleston,  about 
sixteen  miles,  as  I  judge,  for  it  is  not  measured,  and  then  set  out  for  the  mountains  from 
Eggleston,  as  before  directed.  I  have  been  told  there  is  another  way  into  Stanemore,  through 
Bishoprick  ;  but  as  I  am  a  stranger  to  it,  I  can  only  say  what  I  have  heard,  that  it  is  worse 
than  the  bottoms  I  went  through  from  the  Quaker's  house.  This  is  enough,  reader,  to  shew 
you  how  to  get  into  Stanemore,  if  you  have  the  curiosity  and  heart  to  visit  that  very  wild 
and  wonderful  land. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,    ESQ.  129 

of  hot  air,  is  well  fancied,  I  own  :  but  it  does  not  give  me  full 
satisfaction.  I  think  of  this,  and  many  other  natural  things,  as 
Moyle  does  of  the  aurora  borealis  :  that  these  uncommon  appear- 
ances should  be  looked  on  with  wonder  and  admiration,  and  raise 
in  us  a  due  reverence  of  their  great  Author,  who  has  shown  his 
Almighty  power  and  wisdom  in  forming  such  an  infinite  variety 
of  productions  in  all  parts  of  the  universe.  Philosophy  under- 
takes to  account  for  everything.  I  am  sure  it  is  in  many  cases 
mistaken. 

Having  passed  the  burning  valley,  we  rode  through  a  river, 
that  was  up  to  the  horses  bellies,  very  rapid,  and  a  bad  bottom, 
and  then  proceeded  along  a  steep  hill  side,  the  course  N.W.  till 
we  came  to  a  rich  low  land,  that  was  covered  with  flowers  and 
aromatic  shrubs,  and  adorned  with  several  clumps  of  oak,  chest- 
nut, and  white  walnut  trees.  This  plain  is  about  twenty  five 
acres,  surrounded  with  stony  mountains,  some  of  which  are  very 
high  and  steep,  and  from  the  top  of  one  of  the  lowest  of  them,  a 
cataract  descends,  like  the  fall  of  the  river  Niagara  in  Canada, 
or  New  France,  in  North  America.  Swifter  than  an  arrow  from 
a  bow  the  rapid  river  comes  headlong  down  in  a  fall  of  an  hundred 
and  forty  feet,  which  is  three  feet  more  than  the  descent  of 
Niagara.  The  river  here,  to  be  sure,  is  not  half  so  large  as  that 
which  comes  from  the  vast  lakes  of  Canada,  but  it  is  a  great  and 
prodigious  cadence  of  water,  and  tumbles  perpendicularly  in  as 
surprising  a  manner,  from  as  horrible  a  precipice  ;  and  in  this  very 
nearly  resembles  the  Niagara  Fall ;  that  as  you  stand  below,  as 
near  the  fall  as  it  is  safe  to  go,  you  see  the  river  come  down  a 
sloping  mountain  for  a  great  way,  as  if  it  descended  from  the  clouds 
It  is  a  grand  and  amazing  scene.  The  water  issues  from  a  great 
lake  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  that  I  found  very  hard  to  ascend, 
and  the  lake  has  many  visible  feeders  from  hills  upon  hills  above 
it,  which  it  is  impossible  to  climb. 

1 8  June. —  It  was  twelve  o'clock  by  the  time  we  arrived  at 
this  water  fall,  and  therefore  I  sat  down  by  the  side  of  it  to  dine, 
before  I  attempted  to  get  up  to  the  top  of  the  precipice,  and  see 
from  whence  this  water  came.  While  my  eyes  were  entertained 
with  the  descending  scene,  I  feasted  on  a  piece  of  venison  pasty, 
and  some  fine  ale,  which,  among  other  provisions,  Mrs.  Burcot 
had  ordered  her  servants  to  put  up  for  me  :  but  as  I  was  thus 
happily  engaged,  my  lad,  O'Fin,  had  climbed  up  to  the  top  of  the 
waterfall,  and  was  going  to  land  from  a  tree  that  grew  out  of  the 
rocky  mountain  near  the  summit  of  the  hill,  when  his  foot  slipped, 
and  he  came  tumbling  down  in  a  miserable  way.  I  expected 
him  in  pieces  on  the  ground,  as  I  had  him  full  in  my  view.  There 
seemed  no  possibility  of  an  escape,  and  yet  he  received  no  harm. 
In  the  middle  of  the  descent,  he  stuck  in  another  projecting 
thick  tree,  and  from  it  came  safely  down.  This  was  a  deliverance . 


130  THE  LIFE  OF 


Providence  often  saves  us  in  a  wonderful  manner,  till  the  work 
appointed  to  be  finished  is  done,  or  the  limited  time  of  our  trial 
over.  In  relation  to  such  escapes,  I  could  give  myself  as  an 
instance  many  a  time,  and  will  here  mention  one  extraordinary 
case. 

As  I  travelled  once  in  the  county  of  Kerry  in  Ireland,  with  the 
White  Knight,  and  the  Knight  of  the  Glen,*  we  called  at 
Terelah  O  Crohane's,  an  old  Irish  gentleman,  our  common  friend, 
who  kept  up  the  hospitality  of  his  ancestors,  and  showed  how 
they  lived,  when  Cormac  MacCuillenan,  the  Generous,  from 
whose  house  he  descended  ;  was  king  of  Munster  and  archbishop 
of  Cashel  in  the  year  913.!  There  was  no  end  of  eating  and 

*  Such  knights  were  honourable  creations  made  by  the  Irish  kings.  We  have  an  account 
of  them  in  the  Psalter  of  Tar  ah,  before  the  reigns  of  Conaire  the  Great,  A.M.  3970,  ante 
Christum  34  ;  Cormac  Ulfadda,  A.D.  230  ;  and  the  glorious  Brien  Boiroimhe,  A.D.  1027  : 
the  three  greatest  monarchs  that  ever  Ireland  had.  Fitzgerald,  the  first  knight  of  Glen, 
was  so  made  by  the  immortal  Brien  Boiroimhe,  who  fell  in  the  bloody  fight  between 
him  and  Maolmorda  king  of  Leinster,  who  had  joined  with  the  Danes,  A.D.  1239.  The 
king  of  Ireland  and  the  king  of  Leinster  slew  each  other ;  and  with  Brien  Boiroimhe 
set  the  glory  of  Ireland.  The  states  from  this  time  began  to  decay  ;  and  Roderic  O'Connor, 
who  came  to  the  crown,  A.D.  1168,  was  the  last  king  of  Ireland.  Our  Henry  II.,  got  the  king- 
dom A.D.  1172,  by  two  means  ;  one  of  which  was  a  grant  the  Pope  made  of  it  to  him  ;  who 
was  allowed  by  the  natives  to  be  supreme  Lord  of  the  island  in  temporals,  and  the  nobility 
had  by  commission  resigned  it  to  him,  after  the  death  of  Brien  Boiroimhe.  The  other  mean, 
and  what  effectually  did  the  work,  was  the  king  of  Leinster's  joining  with  Strangwell,  who  was 
at  the  head  of  the  English  forces,  and  had  married  that  king's  daughter.  An  old  chronicle 
says  she  was  the  most  beautiful  woman  upon  earth  of  her  time,  and  very  learned  ;  but  inferior 
nevertheless  in  beauty  and  learning  to  the  six  princesses  we  read  of  in  the  Psalter  of  Tarah, 
who  were  fair  beyond  all  mortals  that  ever  lived,  and  wonderful  in  the  extent  of  their  know- 
ledge ;  to  wit — 

The  princess  Mac  Diarmuid. 

The  princess  Mac  Reagien. 

The  princess  Mac  FaoSan. 

The  princess  Mac  Kennedy. 

The  princess  O'Heyn. 

The  princess  O' Flaherty. 

These  six  were  Druidesses,  says  the  Psalter  of  Tarah. 

By  the  way,  reader,  let  me  tell  you,  that  from  this  same  Psalter  of  Tarah,  I  wrote  out  one 
of  the  finest  and  most  improving  love  stories  that  ever  I  read.  It  is  called  '  the  Adventure 
of  Terlagh  Mac  Shain  and  the  beautiful  Gara  O'Mulduin ;  which  happened  in  the  reign  of 
Cormac  Ulfada,  king  of  Ireland,  in  the  year  of  salvation  213,  that  Faon  Maccumhail,  com- 
monly called  Fian  Maccul,  the  mighty  champion,  beat  the  Picts,  and  brought  off  among 
other  prisoners,  the  beautiful  Ciarnuit,  daughter  to  the  king  of  the  Picts,  whom  Cormac 
Ulfada  took  for  his  concubine."  This  story  is  likewise  more  shortly  told  in  Th9  Red  Book 
of  Mac  Eogane,  a  very  valuable  old  Irish  manuscript :  and  from  both  those  books  I  will  give 
my  reader  the  best  part  of  this  adventure  as  soon  as  I  can  see  a  proper  place  to  bring  it  in. 

t  This  Cormac  Cuillenan  wrote  the  famous  Psalter  of  Cashel,  a  very  extraordinary  and  valu- 
able book,  which  he  composed  from  antient  poems  of  the  bards,  who  thus  wrote  their  history, 
and  from  venerable  records,  as  this  king  and  prelate  declares  in  his  will.  The  clause  is  this 
"  My  psalter,  which  preserves  the  ancient  records  and  monuments  of  my  native  country, 
which  are  transcribed  with  great  fidelity,  I  leave  to  Ronal  Cashel,  to  be  preserved  to  after- 
times  and  ages  yet  to  come."  There  is  another  remarkable  clause  in  this  great  man's  will, 
to  wit,  "  My  soul  for  mercy  I  commit  to  heaven ;  my  body  leave  to  dust  and  rottenness." 
There  is  not  a  word  of  any  saint  in  it ;  and  of  consequence,  there  was  no  saint-worship  then 
in  Ireland. 

Cormac  wrote  his  will  the  day  before  he  fought  the  bloody  battle  of  Maghailbe  with  the 
king  of  Leinster,  and  therein  fell.  It  begins  in  this  manner  : 

"  Summon' d  away  by  death,  which  I  perceive 
Approaches ;  for  by  prophetic  skill, 
I  find  that  short  will  be  my  life  and  reign : 
I  solemnly  appoint  that  my  affairs 
Shall  thus  be  settled  after  I  am  dead; 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  131 

drinking  and  the  famous  DOWNE  FALVEY  played  on  the  harp. 
For  a  day  and  a  night  we  sat  to  it  by  candle-light,  without  shirts 
or  clothes  on  ;  naked  excepting  that  we  had  our  breeches  and 
shoes  and  stockings  on  ;  and  I  drank  so  much  Burgundy  in  that 
time,  that  the  sweat  ran  of  a  red  colour  down  my  body  ;  and  my 
senses  were  so  disordered,  that  when  we  agreed  to  ride  out  for 
a  couple  of  hours  to  take  a  little  air,  I  leaped  my  horse  into  a 
dreadful  quarry,  and  in  the  descent  was  thrown  into  a  large  deep 
water  that  was  in  a  part  of  the  frightful  bottom,  and  by  that 
means  saved  my  life.  When  I  came  above  water  I  swam  very 
easily  out  of  the  pit,  and  walked  up  the  low  side  of  the  quarry  as 
sober  as  if  I  had  not  drank  a  glass.  This  is  a  fact,  whatever  the 
critics  may  say  of  the  thing.  All  I  can  say  to  it  is  my  hour  was 
not  come. 

Having  dined,  and  shot  a  bustard  that  weighed  forty  pounds, 
I  went  on  again,  the  course  northwest  for  half  a  mile,  and  then 
to  my  astonishment,  it  trended  to  the  south  for  more  than  an 
hour  ;  which  was  going  back  again  :  but  at  last  it  turned  about, 
and  for  half  an  hour,  we  went  to  the  north-west  again,  and  then 
due  east  for  a  long  time,  till  we  came  to  hills  upon  hills  that  were 
very  difficult  to  pass.  We  were  obliged  to  alight  at  many  of 
them,  and  walk  up  and  down  them,  which  was  a  delay  of  many 

And  thus  I  constitute  my  latest  will : 
My  royal  robe  embroider'd  o'er  with  gold, 
And  sparkling  with  the  rays  of  costly  jewels ; 
Well  suited  to  a  state  of  majesty, 

I  do  bequeath  &c. 

My  coat  of  mail  of  bright  and  polish'd  steel 
Will  well  become  the  martial  king  of  Ulster, 
To  whom  I  give  it ;  and  my  golden  chain 
Shall  the  most  pious  Muchuda  enjoy 

As  a  reward,  &c. 

My  golden  vestment  for  most  sacred  use, 
And  my  royal  wardrobe  I  hereby  give 
To  &c. " 

Now  from  this  antique  piece  verbally  translated,  I  think  it  is  evident,  that  the  kings  of 
the  four  provinces  of  Ireland  were  not  such  poor  and  ignorant  chiefs  as  they  are  generally 
imagined  to  be  ;  and  of  consequence,  that  one  of  the  four  to  whom  the  other  three  did  homage, 
and  who  was  therefore  called  the  king  of  Ireland,  was  always  a  potent  prince,  and  could  do  great 
matters,  when  they  were  all  united.  This  consideration,  I  fancy,  and  the  address  let  me  add 
of  Anselm,  archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  of  Lanfranc,  archbishop  of  the  same  see,  "  to 
Mortogh  O'Brien  king  of  Ireland,  and  Terlagh  O'Brien  king  of  Ireland,  Moriardacho  Glorioso 
and  Terdeluacho  Magnifico.  To  the  most  magnificent  Terlagh  O'Brien,  king  of  Ireland, 
our  benediction,"  &c.  as  you  may  read  them  at  large  in  Usher's  PrimorcHa  *  ought  to  give 
some  credit  to  O'Flaherty's  Ogygia,  Heating's  History,  and  Mac  Cur  tins'  Annals  ;  which  those 
writers  really  took  from  very  ancient  records,  and  principally  from  the  very  valuable 
manuscripts,  called  the  Psalters  of  Cashel  and  Tarah. 

What  the  Psalter  of  Cashel  was  I  have  told  you,  reader  ;  and  as  to  the  Psalter  of  Tarah 
the  history  of  it  is  this. — On  a  tract  of  land  called  Tarah,  that  was  taken  from  the  province 
of  Leinster,  and  added  to  the  county  of  Meath,  stood  the  largest  of  the  four  vast  palaces 
of  the  kings  of  Ireland,  and  at  that  grand  fabric  there  was  a  triennial  meeting  of  the  states 
of  the  kingdom,  called  the  royal  assembly  of  Tarah.  There  they  enacted  laws,  examined 
the  ancient  chronicles  and  records,  and  purged  them  from  all  false  and  spurious  relations, 
settled  genealogies,  and  considered  noble  exploits.  All  the  things  that  received  the  assembly's 
approbation  were  registered,  and  transcribed  into  the  royal  records,  and  they  called  this 
journal  the  Psalter  of  Tarah. 

*  These  letters  were  written  by  the  English  archbishops  to  the  Irish  kings,  Turlogh  and 
Murtogh,  in  the  years  1098  and  mo. 


132  THE  LIFE  OF 


hours  :  but  we  did  it  at  last,  and  came  into  a  large  sandy  opening, 
that  had  a  number  of  rapid  streams  breaking  over  it,  that  fell 
from  the  mountains,  and  with  the  forest  on  the  surrounding  hills, 
formed  a  wild  and  pleasing  scene.  Over  this  we  went  for  half 
a  mile,  and  then  came  to  a  long  glen,  so  very  deep  and  narrow 
that  it  was  quite  night  when  we  got  to  the  bottom  of  it,  though 
the  sun  was  not  yet  down  ;  and  it  brought  to  my  remembrance 
Anchises'  son,  the  wandering  prince  of  Troy,  when  he  descended 
to  the  shades  below.  It  had  the  appearance  indeed  of  some 
such  place,  and  was  a  frightful  way,  as  hills,  like  Caucasus  and 
Atlas,  were  close  on  either  hand  of  us,  and  a  river  roared  through 
the  bottom  of  the  steep  descent ;  which  we  were  obliged  to  walk 
down  on  foot.  This  could  not  be  the  right  road  I  was  certain. 
AZORA  and  ANTONIA  could  never  pass  this  deep  and  rapid  flood 
It  was  too  much  for  any  man  to  venture  into,  without  knowing 
where  the  torrent  went,  or  how  the  channel  of  the  river  was 
formed. 

Up  then  I  came  again  to  the  day,  and  resolved  to  pass  the 
night  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the  woody  hills,  on  the  margin  of  the 
streams  that  sounded  sweetly  over  the  shores  :  but  how  to  proceed 
the  next  morning  I  knew  not.  As  my  paper  of  directions  did 
not  mention  the  dark  steep  descent  we  had  been  down,  but  a  little 
valley  that  lay  due  east,  through  which  we  were  to  go  :  no  such 
vale  could  we"  see,  and  of  consequence,  in  some  turning  of  the 
road,  we  had  gone  wrong. 

When  I  came  among  the  trees,  on  the  side  of  one  of  the  moun- 
tains, I  began  to  look  for  some  convenient  resting-place,  while 
my  two  boys  were  picking  the  bustard,  and  preparing  a  fire  to 
roast  it  for  supper,  and  wandered  a  good  way  till  I  saw  a  pretty 
hermitage  in  an  open  plain  like  a  ring,  and  going  up  to  it,  found 
the  skeleton  of  a  man.  He  lay  on  a  couch  in  an  inward  room 
without  any  covering,  and  the  bones  were  as  clean  and  white  as 
if  they  had  come  from  the  surgeon's  hands.  The  pismires  to  be 
sure  had  eaten  off  the  flesh.  Who  the  man  was,  a  paper  lying 
on  the  table  in  a  strong  box  informed  me.  It  was  called 

THE    CASE    OF    JOHN    ORTON. 

"  I  was  twenty  years  old  when  Charles  II.  was  restored,  in  1660  ; 
and  being  master  of  large  fortunes,  and  educated  in  an  aversion 
to  puritans  and  republican  principles,  went  into  all  the  licentious- 
ness and  impieties,  which  overspread  and  corrupted  this  nation, 
when  that  profligate  prince  ascended  the  throne.  I  drank  up 
to  the  excess  of  the  times  :  I  debauched  every  woman  I  could  get 
within  my  power,  by  gold,  treachery,  or  force  ;  maid,  wife,*  and 
widow  :  I  murdered  several  men  in  duels  ;  and  blasphemed  the 
God  of  heaven  continually.  The  devil  was  my  first  and  last  toast ; 
and,  in  a  club  I  belonged  to,  I  proceeded  to  such  scarce  credible 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  133 

wickedness,  as  to  perform  the  part  of  the  priest  in  our  infernal 
sodality,  and  after  using  the  words  of  consecration  over  the 
elements,  gave  the  prophane  bread  and  wine  in  the  most  horrible 
manner.  I  was  the  most  abominable  of  mortals;  Contrary 
to  all  the  dictates  and  principles  of  wisdom,  virtue,  and  honour 
I  acted  ;  bound  myself  in  bondage  to  Satan  ;  and  lived  the  most 
execrable  slave  to  the  vilest  inclinations,  and  most  heinous  habits. 
Scratch  was  the  name  I  had  for  the  evil  one,  and  upon  all  occasions 
I  invoked  him.  The  last  words  I  said  every  night,  after  lying 
down,  were  '  Scratch,  tuck  me  in.' 

"In  this  diabolical  manner  did  I  pass  my  life  away  till  I  was  forty, 
and  in  twenty  years  time  committed  every  evil  that  can  dishonour 
human  manners,  and  infest  society.  I  was  a  disgrace  to  my 
species,  and  unworthy  of  the  name  of  man. 

"But  as  I  went  on  in  this  manner,  and  gloried  only  in  outdoing 
the  greatest  scelerates  in  impiety  and  debauchery,  in  being  the 
chief  instrument  of  Satan,  and  striving  to  bring  every  soul  I 
got  acquainted  with,  in  subjection  to  the  flesh  and  the  devil  ; 
maliciously  committing  all  manner  of  sin  ;  and  with  greediness 
executing  the  suggestions  of  a  defiled  imagination,  and  the 
purposes  of  the  most  corrupt  heart  ;  I  was  struck  one  night 
with  the  most  excruciating  torment  of  body  ;  and  had,  at  the 
same  time,  such  unspeakable  horrors  upon  my  mind,  that  I 
believe  my  condition  resembled  the  state  of  the  damned.  The 
tortures  all  over  my  frame,  were  beyond  the  pains  any  rack 
could  cause  ;  but  were  less  afflicting  than  the  panic  fear  that  har- 
rowed my  soul  under  a  lively  sense  of  eternal  vengeance,  for 
the  crying  enormities  and  impurities  of  my  life.  All  my  crimson 
crimes  were  held  as  in  a  mirror  before  me  ;  the  most  diabolical 
impieties  against  heaven,  and  the  most  shocking  cruelties  to 
men  ;  the  numbers  I  had  drank  to  death,  and  secured  in  the 
service  of  hell ;  the  men  I  had  sent  to  the  other  world  by  combat 
at  pistol  and  sword  ;  and  the  women  I  had  ruined,  not  only  in 
this  life,  but  perhaps,  for  evermore  ;  the  miseries  I  had  brought 
upon  families,  and  the  manifold  afflictions  I  had  been  the  author 
of  for  years  after  years,  by  night  and  by  day  ;  all  these  offences 
I  saw  like  the  hand-writing  on  the  wall,  and  in  a  horror  and  con- 
sternation of  mind,  that  words  cannot  describe,  lay  a  miserable 
spectacle  for  two  nights  and  two  days.  Tormented,  perplexed, 
and  confounded,  I  rolled  from  side  to  side,  and  condemned 
myself  and  my  folly  in  the  most  doleful  complaints  ;  but  dared 
not  look  up  to  a  just  judge  and  offended  God.  No  slumber 
for  this  time  did  approach  my  eyes  ;  but  in  agonies  I  shook 
with  a  frightful  violence,  and  thought  every  moment,  that  the 
demons  my  fancy  had  in  view,  were  going  to  force  my  miserable 
soul  away  to  everlasting  inflictions,  in  the  most  dismal  cavern 
of  hell.  Spent,  however,  at  last,  I  fell  into  a  short  sleep.  I  had 


134  THE  LIFE  OF 


half  an  hour's  rest,  and  in  that  slumber  imagined,  I  heard  a 
small  voice  say,  '  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord,  I  have  no  pleasure 
in  the  death  of  the  wicked  -t  but  that  the  wicked  turn  from  his 
way,  and  live  :  Turn  ye,  turn  ye  from  your  evil  ways  ;  for  why 
will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel.  Rend  your  heart,  and  not  your 
garments,  and  turn  unto  the  Lord  your  God  :  for  he  is  gracious 
and  merciful,  slow  to  anger,  and  of  great  kindness,  and  repenteth 
him  of  the  evil.' 

"  Upon  this  I  awaked,  and  found  my  pains  were  gone.  To 
heaven  I  lifted  my  eyes,  and  as  the  tears  poured  down  my  face, 
cried  out  to  God  for  mercy.  "  O  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner. 
Have  mercy  on  me  dust  and  sin,  the  vilest  of  all  sinful  creatures. 
To  me  belongs  nothing  but  shame  and  confusion  of  face  eternally. 
My  portion  should  in  justice  be  the  lake  of  everlasting  fire  and 
brimstone.  But  O  Lord  God  most  mighty,  O  holy  and  most 
merciful  Father,  to thee  belongeth infinite  goodness  and  forgiveness. 
O  remember  not  my  sins  and  transgressions,  my  great  and 
numberless  provocations,  and  my  trespasses  that  are  grown  up 
even  unto  heaven.  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God,  after  thy 
great  goodness,  and  according  to  the  multitude  of  thy  mercies, 
do  away  mine  offences.  I  have  a  hearty  sense  and  detestation 
of  all  my  abominations,  and  with  a  true  contrition  of  heart,  I 
repent  of  all  my  iniquities.  Wash  me,  then,  I  beseech  thee, 
O  Father  of  mercies  ;  wash  my  polluted  soul  in  the  blood  of  the 
holy  Jesus,  and  forgive  me  all  my  sins,  as  I  offer  up  a  troubled 
spirit,  and  a  broken  and  contrite  heart,  which  thou  hast  promised 
not  to  despise.  And  grant,  O  Lord  God,  my  Father,  that  I  may 
from  this  hour,  by  the  guidance  and  direction  of  thy  sanctifying 
spirit,  bid  a  final  adieu  to  all  ungodliness  and  iniquity ;  and 
consecrate  myself  entirely  to  thee,  to  serve  thee  with  humility, 
love  and  devotion,  and  for  the  remainder  of  my  life,  give  thee 
the  sacrifices  of  righteousness,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.' 

"  When  I  had  thus  implored  the  mercy  of  the  Almighty,  in 
a  torrent  of  tears,  with  strong  cryings,  I  found  my  heart  quite 
easy,  and  my  mind  so  filled  with  delights  and  comforts,  that  I 
cannot  describe  the  strange  happiness  of  my  condition  :  but  how 
to  secure  this  felicity  was  the  question.  I  was  afraid  of  the  world, 
and  trembled  when  I  thought  of  its  temptations  :  beside,  the  great 
wickedness  of  my  past  lift  made  it  necessary  that  I  should  live 
in  an  extraordinary  state  of  penitence,  and  by  great  mortification 
and  piety,  make  what  amends  I  could  for  sinning  against  heaven 
in  the  most  atrocious  manner ;  and  wilfully  for  a  long  series  of 
years,  breaking  every  law  of  the  just  and  holy  governor  of  the 
world.  A  change  of  mind,  and  common  piety,  were  not  enough 
for  such  a  wretch  as  I  had  been.  I  was  unworthy  of  the  innocent 
comforts  of  life.  I  ought  to  breathe  in  sighs,  and  speak  in  groans. 
I  resolved  then  to  be  a  reform  indeed,  and  in  this  part  of  Stane- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  13 5 

more  mountains,  which  I  was  well  acquainted  with,  spend  the 
remainder  of  my  days,  in  the  labours  of  a  penitential  piety. 

"  As  I  had  no  relations  living,  I  sold  what  estates  I  had  left, 
and  gave  almost  the  whole  money  among  the  poor.  With  the 
little  I  kept,  I  bought  what  necessary  things  I  should  want  in 
my  solitude  ;  and  with  tools  and  seeds,  some  clothes  and  linen, 
a  few  books,  and  other  little  matters,  retired  to  this  spot  in  the 
year  1681.  I^had  some  working  men  from  the  next  village, 
to  build  me  the  little  hut  I  live  in  ;  to  sow  my  garden  with  every 
vegetable,  and  put  some  fruit-trees  in  the  ground  ;  to  cut  me  a 
pile  of  firing  from  the  woody  hills  ;  and  make  my  place  as  con- 
venient as  my  intended  life  could  require.  All  this  was  soon  done, 
and  then  I  was  left  alone  ;  in  the  possession  of  everything  I 
had  a  wish  for  in  this  world.  It  is  now  twenty  years  since  my 
arrival  here,  and  in  all  the  time,  I  have  not  had  one  sick  or  dismal 
hour.  My  garden  and  my  cottage  employ  me  in  agreeable 
labours,  to  furnish  my  table  with  roots  and  fruits  ,  which  is 
what  I  mostly  live  on  ;  having  nothing  more  but  goat's  milk', 
and  now  and  then  a  sea-biscuit ;  my  drink  being  water,  and  some- 
times a  cup  of  meath  of  my  own  making. 

"  When  I  am  weary  of  working,  I  sit  down  to  study  my  B  ible, 
and  in  that  most  perfect  treasure  of  saving  knowledge,  I  find  such 
joy  and  satisfaction  as  make  my  life  a  scene  of  heavenly  happ  iness, 
and  charm  me  into  raptures  the  nearer  I  approach  to  the  hour  of 
my  dissolution.  That  will  be  a  blessed  hour.  By  the  amazing 
mercy  of  God,  vouchsafed  through  the  Lord  Jesus,  my  crimson 
sins  are  pardoned  ;  and  when  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  God,  the 
thunder  of  the  dreadful  trumpet  will  awake  all  the  dead,  I  shall 
have  my  part  in  the  first  resurrection,  and  ascend  with  the  blessed 
to  the  eternal  mansions  of  the  sky.  Adored  be  thy  goodness, 
most  glorious  Eternal.  Inestimable  is  thy  love  in  the  redemption 
of  sinners  by  the  gospel,  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  holy  Jesus  ! 

"  Fellow  mortal,  whoever  thou  art,  into  whose  hands  this 
paper  cometh,  take  my  advice,  and  remember  thy  latter  end. 
If,  like  me,  thou  hast  been  betrayed  by  the  demons  into  great 
impieties  and  presumptuous  sins,  and  hast  been  persuaded  to 
abdicate  heaven,  and  its  eternal  hopes,  in  exchange  for  illicit 
gratifications  of  every  kind,  and  the  pleasures  of  this  world 
then,  like  me,  repent,  and  in  tears  and  mortification,  implore 
the  mercy  of  heaven.  Turn  to  the  everlasting  Father  of  mercies, 
and  the  God  of  all  comforts,  after  his  own  manner,  with  humility, 
sorrow,  and  resolutions  of  amendment,  and  in  the  name  of  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  implore  his  compassion  and  forgiveness,  and  he  will 
repent  and  turn  unto  thee.  He  will  wash  you  in  the  blood  of 
Jesus,  and  make  you  whiter  than  snow.  When  he  sees  the  sinner 
a  great  way  off  in  tears,  fasting,  and  prayer,  he  will  run  unto 
him,  and  fall  upon  his  neck  and  kiss  him.  You  will  become 


136  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  beloved  of  the  Father,  and  be  reinstated  in  the  favour  of  the 
greatest  and  most  glorious  of  immortal  beings.  He  will  bless  you 
here  with  that  peace  that  passeth  all  understanding.  He  will  bless 
you  for  ever  hereafter  with  glory  and  honour  in  the  kingdom  he 
has  prepared  for  the  benevolent,  the  pure,  and  the  honest.  But 
if  you  continue  to  offend  your  Creator,  and  violate  the  laws  of 
the  God  of  heaven,  then  will  you  live  exposed  to  judgments  in 
this  world,  and  most  certainly  will  depart  in  confusion  and  misery. 
The  demons  you  obeyed  will  gather  round  the  pale,  the  guilty, 
the  affrighted  ghost  of  you,  eager  to  involve  your  wretched  spirit 
in  their  own  horrors,  and  will  drag  it  to  their  dismal  regions. 
And  when  all  the  monuments  of  human  power,  wealth  and  pride, 
shall  be  overthrown  ;  the  earth  itself  be  in  a  blaze,  and  the 
sea  turned  into  vapours,  at  the  descent  of  the  Son  of  God,  to 
judge  the  vast  congregation  of  the  sons  of  men,  the  amazing 
assembly  of  mortals,  unheard  of  generations  raised  from  the 
grave  to  have  all  their  actions  tried  ;  every  condition  ever- 
lastingly determined  ;  then  will  you  be  placed  in  that  divi- 
sion which  will  call  upon  the  rocks  to  hide  them,  and  the  hills 
to  cover  them  from  the  face  of  the  Judge  ;  but  in  vain  attempt 
to  secret  themselves  from  an  infinite  eye,  and  an  Almighty 
power.  Then  will  the  terrors  of  the  gospel  stand  in  full  force 
against  thee,  and  in  the  dreadful  sentence  pronounced  against 
the  guilty  you  must  share — Depart  from  me,  ye  cursed,  into 
everlasting  fire.  O  dreadful  doom  !  what  a  tremendous  day  to 
sinners  !  and  to  see  the  righteous  acquitted,  and  before  your  eyes 
ascend  in  triumph  and  splendour  into  the  mansions  of  glory, 
to  live  the  happy  favourities  of  God  and  Christ  for  never-ending 
ages  ;  while  you  are  driven  forward  to  the  infernal  prison,  and 
shut  up  in  the  habitations  of  eternal  darkness  and  torments, 
the  very  thought  of  it,  if  you  will  think  seriously  of  it,  is  enough 
to  curdle  the  blood,  and  wither  in  a  moment  every  unlawful 
joy  that  sin  can  produce  in  bloom  and  glory.  The  despair,  the 
sighs,  the  groans,  the  doleful  shrieks,  when  the  wicked  are  driven 
off  to  the  regions  of  blackness  and  darkness  for  ever,  are  in- 
expressible. Think  then.  Think  in  time,  my  fellow  mortal 
and  profit  by  the  blood  of  a  Saviour.  Study  his  gospel.  Hear 
his  ministers.  Regard  the  alarms  of  conscience,  and  submit  to 
the  influence  of  the  holy  Spirit. 

And  if  you  are  not  that  monster  of  iniquity  I  once  was,  before 
I  obtained  the  divine  mercy,  by  a  timely  and  severe  repentance, 
yet,  as  in  heaven  so  in  hell,  there  are  many  mansions,  and  if  you 
do  not  work  out  your  salvation  according  to  the  terms  of  the 
gospel,  and  make  every  law  of  Christ  the  rules  of  your  behaviour  ; 
if  you  do  not  act  continually  as  related  to  God,  to  each  other, 
and  to  another  world,  and  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  the 
righteousness  thereof,  you  will  utterly  disqualify  yourself  for  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  137 

rewards  and  happiness  of  heaven,  though  your  conduct  may  be 
far  from  meriting  the  most  dreadful  inflictions  in  another  world. 
The  gains  of  unrighteousness,  or  meddling  with  any  forbidden 
fruit,  is  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  God  that  must  ruin  you  for  ever  ; 
though  the  punishment  for  so  doing  cannot  be  equal  to  the  tor- 
ments prepared  for  the  tyrant  and  oppressor,  the  murderer, 
the  adulterer,  the  drunkard,  and  offenders  in  the  highest  crimes, 
We  must  cease  to  do  evil,  and  learn  to  do  well,  in  order  to  be 
saved.  Not  according  to  promises  and  prayers  at  last,  not 
according  to  legacies  to  be  paid  to  the  poor  when  we  are  dead, 
shall  we  be  judged  ;  but,  as  we  have  rectified  the  judgment 
and  the  will,  made  virtue  the  governor  of  the  heart,  and  in  all 
things  sought  God's  glory,  not  our  own.  This  do,  and  you  will 
live. 

'•  JOHN  ORTON." 
May  i,  1701. 

This  extraordinary  paper  surprised  me  very  greatly,  and  when 
from  reading  it,  I  turned  my  eyes  to  the  bones  of  JOHN  ORTON,  I 
could  not  help  breaking  out  in  the  following  reflection.  And  is 
this  the  once  lively,  gallant,  drinking  JACK  ORTON,  who  thought 
for  forty  years  that  he  was  made  for  no  higher  end  than  to  gratify 
every  appetite,  and  pass  away  time  in  a  continual  circle  of  vanity 
and  pleasure  !  Poor  skeleton,  what  a  miserable  spectacle  art 
thou  !  Not  the  least  remain  of  activity  and  joy,  of  that  spright- 
liness  and  levity  of  mind,  that  jocund  humour  and  frolic,  which 
rendered  thee  the  delight  of  the  wild  societies  of  thy  youthful 
time  :  grim,  stiff,  and  horrid,  is  the  appearance  now  ;  vain  mirth 
and  luxury,  licentious  plays  and  sports,  can  have  no  connection 
with  these  dry  bones. 

O  Death,  what  a  change  dost  thou  make  !  The  bulk  of  man- 
kind are  averse  to  serious  thought,  and  hearken  to  the  passions 
more  than  to  the  dictates  of  reason  and  religion  :  to  kill  time, 
and  banish  reflection,  they  indulge  in  a  round  of  dissipations, 
and  revel  in  the  freedom  of  vicious  excesses  :  their  attention  is 
engrossed  by  spectacle  and  entertainments,  and  fixed  to  follies 
and  trifles  ;  giddy  and  unthinking,  loose  and  voluptuous,  they 
spend  their  precious  hours  in  the  gay  scenes  of  diversions,  pomp 
and  luxury  ;  and  as  if  the  grave  and  a  judgment  to  come,  were  a 
romance  of  former  times,  or  things  from  which  they  are  secured, 
never  think  of  these  important  and  momentous  subjects  ;  with 
minds  bewitched  by  exorbitant  pleasure,  and  faculties  enervated 
and  broken  by  idle  mirth  and  vanity,  they  pass  their  every  day 
away  without  'any  of  that  consideration  which  becomes  reasonable 
beings,  and  creatures  designed  for  a  state  of  immortality  :  but 
at  last,  you  appear,  and  in  a  moment  turn  delight  and  admira- 
tion, into  aversion  and  horror  :  strength,  wealth,  and  charms, 


138  THE  LIFE  OF 


you  instantly  reduce  to  weakness,  poverty,  and  deformity,  in 
the  first  place  ;  and  then,  to  a  skeleton  like  the  bones  before  me. 

Nor  is  this  the  worst  of  the  great  revolution.  When  death 
approaches,  the  amusements  of  sense  immediately  fail,  and  past 
transactions  in  every  circumstance  of  aggravation,  crowd  into 
the  mind  :  conscience  reproaches  loudly,  the  heart  condemns, 
and  the  sick  tremble  at  the  apprehensions  of  a  vengeance  they 
laughed  at  in  the  days  of  diversion,  and  the  midnight  hours  of 
the  ball :  as  they  come  near  the  black  valley,  they  see  the  realities 
of  a  future  state  ;  and  agonies  convulse  their  souls  :  terrors  till 
then  unknown  enter  their  breasts  ;  and,  in  anxieties  that  are 
incapable  of  being  uttered,  and  expectations  the  most  torturing, 
on  a  review  of  life,  they  pass  from  the  plains  of  time  into  the 
ocean  of  eternity.  Here  lies  the  frame,  like  the  dry  bones  before 
me  ;  but,  the  soul  is  gone  to  the  sessions  of  righteousness  ;  and 
perhaps,  the  dreadful  sentence  of  the  divine  justice  is  pronounced 
on  it.  This  is  a  tremendous  affair,  that  calls  for  timely  and 
serious  consideration.  Eternity  !  Eternal  misery  !  They  that 
have  done  evil,  to  come  forth  unto  the  resurrection  of  damna- 
tion. 

I  will  take  thy  advice  then,  thou  glorious  penitent,  JOHN 
ORTON  ;  and  since  it  is  in  my  power  to  come  forth  unto  the 
resurrection  of  life,  and  obtain  immortality,  honour,  and  glory, 
with  the  righteous,  in  the  kingdom  of  their  father,  I  will  open  the 
reforming  gospel  night  and  morning,  and  by  its  heavenly  direc- 
tions regulate  my  conduct.  I  am  determined  to  make  a  wise 
and  serious  preparation  for  death  and  judgment.  To  the  best 
of  my  power,  I  will  provide  for  that  day,  when  the  prayers  and 
charities  of  the  righteous  will  be  brought  forth  as  their  memorials 
before  the  tribunal  of  Jesus  Christ. 

This  is  the  thing  to  be  minded.  The  brightest  scenes  of 
wordly  prosperity,  and  grandeur,  are  contemptible,  when  they 
do  not  accord  with  virtue  and  piety.  Death,  in  a  few  years, 
blends  the  prince  and  the  meanest  subject,  the  conqueror  and 
the  slave,  the  statesman,  the  warrior  and  the  most  insignificant 
in  one  promiscuous  ruin  ;  and  the  schemes,  the  competitions, 
and  the  interests,  which  have  engaged  the  chief  attention  of  the 
world,  are  brought  to  nothing,  and  appear,  too  often,  ridiculous  : 
but  righteousness  is  unchangeably  glorious,  and  in  the  universal 
ruin,  receives  no  detriment :  when  all  human  power  and  policy 
will  be  extinct  :  concealed  piety  and  persecuted  virtue,  will 
again  appear,  and  be  owned  as  his  by  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  in  that 
day  when  he  maketh  up  his  jewels. 

I  will  love  thee  therefore,  O  Lord  my  strength  ;  yea,  I  will 
love  thee  :  and  it  shall  ever  be  my  heart's  desire,  that  my  soul 
may  behold  by  faith  in  itself,  as  in  a  glass,  the  glory  of  the  Lord, 
able  and  ready  to  change  it  into  the  same  image  from  glory  to 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  139 

glory,  reflected  upon,  and  conveyed  to  it  by  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord.  May  my  portion  here  be  this  blessed  transforming  union, 
that  I  may  be  made  partaker  of  the  divine  nature,  by  impressions 
from  it.*  I  shall  then  have  all  I  wish,  and  all  I  want.  With  a 
settled  indifference  I  shall  then  look  upon  the  highest  advantages 
of  this  world.  I  shall  have  nothing  to  hope  or  to  fear.  The  will 
of  God  will  be  to  me  unmixed  felicity. 

Such  was  the  soliloquy  I  spoke,  as  I  gazed  on  the  skeleton  of 
JOHN  ORTON  ;  and  just  as  I  had  ended,  the  boys  brought  in  the 
wild  turkey,  which  they  had  very  ingeniously  roasted,  and  with 

*  The  expression,  "  partaker  of  the  divine  nature  by  impressions  from  it,"  may,  perhaps, 
be  thought  by  some  readers,  to  approach  to  vision ;    and  to  contradict  my  own  opinion 
before  delivered,  in  relation  to  this  subject :  let  me  observe  then,  that  by  impression,  I  here 
mean  no  more,  than  bright  beams  of  light  cast  upon  the  soul  by  the  present  Deity  ;    as  he 
sits  all  power,  all  knowledge,  in  the  heart,  and  dispenses  such  rays  of  wisdom  to  the  pious 
petitioner,  as  are  sufficient  to  procure  a  lasting  sense  of  spiritual  heavenly  things.     God  is 
not  only  in  heaven.     He  dwelleth  indeed  in  the  heaven  of  heavens  after  the  most  glorious 
manner,  as  the  High  and  Lofty  One,  and  by  some  splendid  appearance,  manifests  a  presence 
to  the  senses  of  the  blessed  spirits  *  ;  but  as  he  is  an  infinite  Spirit,  diffused  through  all  things 
filling  as  well  as  containing  them,  seeing  and  knowing  all,  even  the  most  secret  things ;  for, 
His  eyes,  to  speak  after  a  popular  manner,  are  ten  thousand  times  brighter  than  the  sun, 
beholding  all  the  ways  of  men  and  considering  the  most  secret  paths  ;   knowing  all  things 
ere  ever  they  were  created,  and  looking  upon  all  things  after  they  were  perfected  :  it  follows, 
that  since  nothing  can  exclude  the   presence  of  this  infinite  Spirit ;    then,  in  Him  we  live, 
move,  and  have  our  being  :  He  is  not  far  from  any  of  us  ;  but  although  he  is  above  all,  yet 
he  is  through  all,  and  in  us  all ;  within  us,  as  well  as  without  us  ;  and  therefore,  in  the  hearts 
of  the  faithful,  he  must  be  considered,  as  an  immense,  intellectual,  pure  light,  ready  to  enlighten 
and  enliven  them,  and  to  shed  forth  the  bright  beams  of  his  love  upon  them.    I  imagine  this 
illustrates  the  thing.    To  me  it  seems  reason. 

*  As  to  the  expression  just  now  used,  to  wit,  that  this  infinite  Spirit  manifests  himself 
to  the  senses  of  his  blessed  subjects — it  may  be  asked  how  this  can  be — can  the  eye  behold 
what  is  infinite  and  invisible  ? 

The  answer  is  this,  that  although  God's  essence  be  invisible,  yet  there  is  a  glory,  the  train 
and  attendance  of  his  essence,  which  exhibits  a  bodily  and  sensible  vision  of  God.  He  decketh 
himself  with  light  as  with  a  garment.  This  is  the  dwelling  of  his  essence.  He  dwelleth 
in  light  that  is  unapproachable. 

We  must  distinguish  then  between  the  essential  and  the  majestatic  presence  of  God.  The 
majestatic  presence  is  the  discovery  of  his  essential  presence  in  a  determinate  place  by  a 
magnificent  luminous  appearance ;  and  this  the  apostle  calls  the  excellent  glory,  megaki- 
prepous  doxls.  This  glory  appeared  on  Mount  Sinai  six  days  together.  It  rested  and  dwelt 
in  the  sanctuary.  It  filled  the  house.  Moses  saw  its  back  parts,  that  is,  a  small  measure  and 
scantling  of  it,  in  proportion  to  the  weakness  of  his  mortal  eyes :  but,  in  the  other  world, 
when  mortals  shall  have  put  on  immortality,  and  our  bodies  shall  be  invested  with  the  new 
powers  of  spirituality  and  incorruption,  then  face  to  face,  we  shall  be  able  to  see  the  whole 
lustre  of  divine  Majesty,  as  familiarly  as  one  man  beholdeth  the  face  of  another.* 

There  are  two  ways  then,  as  an  excellent  man  observes,  of  seeing  God,  to  wit,  by  intelligence, 
and,  in  some  manner,  by  sense  :  but  we  must  not  imagine  that  these  two  make  up  the  beatific 
vision.  There  is  a  cause  of  more  importance  to  beatitude.  The  sight  and  contemplation 
of  the  divine  glories  is  our  act ;  but  the  act  of  God  is  the  communication  of  them.  This 
makes  the  saints  perfectly  blessed.  By  the  communication  of  the  divine  glories,  we  come  to 
be,  not  bare  spectators,  but,  0etas  KOIVOVOI  4>v<reos,  partakers  of  the  divine  nature. 

As  we  are  more  obliged,  says  the  writer  I  have  mentioned  to  the  sun,  who  is  the  cheer 
and  vigour  of  nature,  and  the  very  life  of  all  animal  and  vegetable  beings  :  for  his  influences 
than  for  his  sight,  so  are  the  heavenly  inhabitants  much  more  obliged  to  God  for  their  recep- 
tions from  him  as  the  fountain  of  life  and  wisdom,  than  for  the  sight  and  contemplation  of 
him  as  the  subject  of  perfection.  This  illustrates  the  matter,  and  we  may  say,  there  is  a 
third  way  of  seeing  God,  to  wit,  in  the  enjoyment  of  him  ;  the  beamings  of  his  favour,  and 
the  effusions  of  his  love,  passing  through  the  whole  man,  and  producing  an  intimate  sensation 
of  him  both  in  body  and  soul,  and  filling  both  with  an  unconceivable  and  endless  delectation. 
This  is  seeing  God  as  he  is. 

*  As  grateful  objects  of  sense  make  up  a  great  part  of  human  delectation  ;   may  we  not 
suppose,  that  this  glory  of  God,  accommodated  to  our  senses,  will  produce  a  more  ravishing 
and  transcendent  delight,  than  all  the  objects  in  nature  are  capable  of  producing. 


I4o  THE  LIFE  OF 


some  of  Mrs.  BURCOT'S  fine  ale  and  bread,  I  had  an  excellent 
supper.  The  bones  of  the  penitent  ORTON  I  removed  to  a  hole 
I  had  ordered  my  lad  to  dig  for  them  ;  the  skull  excepted,  which 
I  kept,  and  still  keep  on  my  table,  for  a  memento  mori ;  and  that 
I  may  never  forget  the  good  lesson,  which  the  percipient  who  once 
resided  in  it,  had  given.  It  is  often  the  subject  of  my  meditation. 
When  I  am  alone  of  an  evening,  in  my  closet,  which  is  often  my 
case,  I  have  the  skull  of  JOHN  ORTON  before  me,  and  as  I  smoke  a 
philosophic  pipe,  with  my  eyes  fastened  on  it,  I  learn  more  from 
the  solemn  object,  than  I  could  from  the  most  philosophical 
and  laboured  speculations.  What  a  wild  and  hot  head  once 
how  cold  and  still  now  ;  poor  skull,  I  say  :  and  what  was  the 
end  of  all  thy  daring  frolics  and  gambols — thy  licentiousness 
and  impiety  ? — A  severe  and  bitter  repentance.  In  piety  and 
goodness  JOHN  ORTON  found  at  last  that  happiness  the  world 
could  not  give  him.  There  is  no  real  felicity  for  man,  but  in 
reforming  all  his  errors  and  vices,  and  entering  upon  a  strict 
and  constant  course  of  virtue.  This  only  makes  life  comfortable  ; 
renders  death  serene  and  peaceful ;  and  secures  eternal  joy  and 
blessedness  hereafter.  Such  are  the  lessons  I  extract  from  the 
skull  of  JOHN  ORTON. 

When  I  had  supped,  I  went  about,  to  see  what  things  ORTON 
had  left  behind  him  in  his  little  cottage,  and  I  found  a  field  bed- 
stead large  enough  for  two,  with  a  mattrass,  silk  blankets,  quilt, 
and  cotton  curtains  ;  two  oak  stools,  and  a  strong  square  table 
of  the  same  wood.  An  oak  settee,  on  which  his  bones  lay  ; 
a  silver  lamp  to  burn  oil  in  ;  a  tinder-box  and  matches  ;  a  case 
of  razors,  six  handsome  knives  and  forks  in  a  case  ;  half  a  dozen 
china  plates,  two  china  dishes  ;  and  two  pint  mugs  of  the  same 
ware  ;  half  a  dozen  drinking-glasses,  a  large  copper  kettle,  a 
brass  skillet,  two  silver  spoons,  and  a  silver  ladle  ;  in  a  chest 
were  clothes  and  linen,  shoes  and  stockings,  and  various  useful 
matters;  There  were  pens,  ink,  and  paper  in  a  writing-desk, 
and  half  a  score  guineas  ;  and  on  a  shelf  over  it,  a  dozen  good 
books  ;  three  of  which  were,  a  large  English  Bible,  Thomas  d 
Kempis  and  Sir  WTalter  Raleigh's  History  of  the  World  .•  under 
the  shelf  hung  a  plain  gold  watch,  and  a  large  ring  sun-dial.  In 
a  dark  closet,  I  found  a  box  of  sea-biscuits,  many  flasks  of  oil 
for  eating,  and  jars  of  it  for  the  lamp  ;  honey,  salt  and  vinegar  ; 
four  dozen  of  quart  bottles  of  meath,  and  two  stone  bottles, 
that  held  three  gallons  each,  full  of  brandy  :  this  I  suppose  was 
against  the  days  of  weakness  or  sickness.  He  had  not  used  a  pint 
of  this  liquor. 

Having  found  these  things  within  doors,  I  proceeded  from 
the  house  to  the  garden,  which  lay  at  a  small  distance  from  the 
little  thatched  mansion,  and  contained  about  four  acres  ;  it  had 
been  very  beautifully  laid  out,  and  filled  with  the  best  fruit-trees, 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  141 

and  all  the  vegetables  :  but  it  was  run  to  ruin  and  high  weeds, 
and  shewed  that  its  owner  had  been  long  dead.  I  suppose  he 
died  soon  after  the  date  of  his  paper  ;  for,  I  observed,  that  many 
prior  dates  had  been  struck  out ;  and  had  he  lived  after  the  year 
1701,  he  would,  in  all  probability,  have  razed  that  likewise, 
and  set  down  1702.  Some  sudden  sickness  must  have  seized 
him  ;  and  perhaps,  when  he  found  himself  sinking,  he  laid  himself 
out  naked  on  the  wooden  couch  where  I  found  his  skeleton. 
I  can  no  otherwise  account  for  his  having  no  kind  of  covering  over 
him.  As  to  his  bones  being  so  clean,  that  to  be  sure  was  performed 
by  the  ants.  I  took  notice  of  many  nests  here  of  the  larger  ants, 
in  holes  under  the  roots  of  great  trees. 

That  the  pismires  are  the  best  preparers  of  a  skeleton  is  not 
only  certain  from  the  account  the  missionaries  give  of  the  coming 
on  of  the  ants  in  Pegu  ;  when  in  one  night's  time,  the  vast  swarms 
of  them  that  approach,  reduce  every  human  creature  they  can 
fasten  on  to  clean  bones  ;  which  makes  the  people  set  fire  to 
their  habitations,  when  they  have  notice  given  them  by  a  kind 
of  small  monkey  they  keep  for  the  purpose  of  the  motion  of  this 
terrible  enemy  ;  but  it  is  plain  from  what  I  have  often  experi- 
mented. 

When  I  want  to  make  a  skeleton  of  any  small  animal,  I  put 
the  dead  creature  in  a  box  with  holes  in  it  among  the  ants,  in 
their  habitations,  or  nests,  or  in  such  parts  of  the  house  as  a 
whole  tribe  will  often  march  to,  through  several  rooms,  in  one 
track  or  certain  road,  to  eat  sugar  or  sweetmeats  they  have  dis- 
covered, and  then  in  two  or  three  days,  they  will  perform,  what 
the  finest  knife  cannot  execute.  The  big  ants  which  are  larger 
than  a  common  house  fly,  and  are  seldom  less  than  six  thousand 
in  a  nest,  will  clear  the  bones  of  a  rat  in  half  a  night's  time. 

There  was  a  pretty  little  wooden  summer-house  in  the  centre 
of  the  garden,  and  in  it  had  been  in  pots  some  curious  plants  and 
flowers.  Here  were  various  tools,  and  many  instruments  of 
gardening.  It  appeared  from  them,  and  the  great  variety  of 
things  in  the  ground,  that  ORTON  must  have  used  himself  to  hard 
labour,  and  found  great  pleasure  in  his  improvements  and  pro- 
ductions. There  was  a  deal  of  art  and  ingenuity  to  be  traced 
in  the  wild  wilderness  the  garden  was  grown  into.  It  was  plain 
from  a  book,  called  The  Carthusian  Gardener,  which  lay  on  a 
table  in  the  summer-house,  that  he  had  made  that  business  his 
study.  Round  this  summer-house  were  the  remains  of  many 
hives  on  benches,  but  the  bees  were  all  gone,  and  the  stock 
ruined. 

All  these  things,  and  the  place,  set  me  a  thinking,  and  soon 
suggested  to  my  fancy,  that  in  my  condition,  I  could  not  do  better 
than  succeed  ORTON  on  the  premises  :  but,  without  turning  hermit. 
Here  is,  I  said,  a  pretty  small  thatched  mansion,  that  might  easily 


i42  THE  LIFE  OF 


be  enlarged,  if  more  rooms  were  wanting  ;  and  a  garden,  which 
labour  would  soon  restore  to  its  usefulness  and  beauty,  and 
make  it  produce  the  best  vegetables  in  plenty.  Here  is  fish  in 
the  waters,  fowl  of  every  kind,  and  deer  on  the  mountains.  Here 
are  goats  in  great  herds,  for  milk,  for  kids,  and  when  cut,  for 
excellent  venison.  Here  is  the  finest  water,  and  by  getting 
bees,  as  ORTON  had,  meath  may  be  made  that  will  be  equal  to  the 
best  foreign  wine.  As  to  the  situation,  it  is  most  delightful. 
Nothing  can  be  more  charming  than  these  shores  and  breaking 
waters,  the  rocky  precipices  and  the  woody  hills,  which  surround 
this  little  region.  What  then  should  hinder  but  that  I  here  sit 
down,  and  put  an  end  to  my  adventures  ;  as  the  few  things  that 
are  wanting  may  be  had  at  the  next  town,  and  a  stock  for  years 
be  in  a  few  days  secured  ?  The  man  I  am  looking  for  may  never 
be  found  ;  and  if  I  should  meet  with  him,  his  circumstances  and 
temper  may  be  changed  :  then,  as  to  the  world,  I  know  not  how 
to  deal  in  any  kind  of  business  ;  and  to  live  on  the  small  fortune 
in  my  possession,  must  reduce  me  to  poverty  very  soon.  Here 
then  it  is  good  for  me  to  reside,  and  make  myself  as  happy  as 
I  can,  if  it  be  not  in  my  power  to  be  as  happy  as  I  would.  I 
have  two  lads  with  me,  who  are  active,  useful  young  men,  willing 
to  work,  and  pleased  to  stay  wherever  I  am  ;  and  if  I  can  com- 
mence a  matrimonial  relation  with  some  sensible,  good-humoured, 
dear  delightful  girl  of  the  mountains,  and  persuade  her  to  be 
the  cheerful  partner  of  my  still  life,  nature  and  reason  will  create 
the  highest  scenes  of  felicity,  and  we  shall  live  as  it  were  in  the 
suburbs  of  heaven.  My  lads  too  may  pick  up  among  the  hills, 
upon  scripture  principles,  two  bouncing  females  :  and  a  state  will 
in  a  little  time  be  formed.  This  is  fine.  For  once  in  my  life 
I  am  fortunate.  And  suppose  this  partner  I  want  in  my  solitude 
could  be  Miss  MELMOTH,  one  of  the  wisest  and  most  discreet  of 
women  ;  a  thinking  bloom,  and  good-humour  itself  in  a  human 
figure  ;  then,  indeed  I  must  be  happy  in  this  silent,  romantic 
station.  This  spot  of  earth  would  then  have  all  the  felicities. 
Resolved.  '  Conclusum  est  contra  Manicheos,'  said  the  great 
St  Austin,  and  with  a  thump  of  his  fist,  he  'cracked  the  table. 
Thus  was  my  head  employed,  while  I  smoked  a  pipe  after  supper, 
and  I  determined  to  return  to  ORTON 's  mansion,  after  I  had  found 
a  way  out  of  Stanemore  ;  but  the  previous  question  was,  how  I 
should  get  out  of  the  place  I  was  in,  without  going  back,  as  there 
appeared  no  passage  onwards.  I  tried  every  angle  the  next 
morning,  to  no  purpose,  and  in  vain  attempted  some  hills  that 
were  too  steep  for  the  horses.  Down  then  I  went  again  to  the 
bottom  of  the  black  and  narrow  glen  afore-mentioned,  and  with 
light  observed  the  rumbling  deep  river.  It  appeared  more 
frightful  than  the  first  time  I  saw  it  and  there  was  no  venturing 
into  it.  This  troubled  me  not  a  little,  as  the  water  was  not  above 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  143 

eight  yards  broad,  and  there  was  an  ascending  glen  on  the  other 
side  of  it,  that  appeared  to  rise  into  a  fine  woody  country.  It 
was  not  half  the  length  of  that  we  had  descended,  nor  near  so 
steep  ;  it  began  to  widen  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  water,  so  as  to  show,  at  the  summit,  a  fine  plain  encompassed 
with  a  sweep  of  forest.  We  could  see  the  sun  shining  there. 
The  view  in  contrast  was  quite  charming. 

For  some  time  I  stood  in  this  perplexed  condition  by  the  water 
side,  and  could  not  tell  what  to  do,  when  one  of  the  lads  came 
running  to  me,  to  let  me  know,  that  as  he  carefully  examined  the 
sides  of  the  glen  we  came  down,  he  discovered  to  the  left,  about 
fourscore  yards  above  the  river,  a  pass  wide  enough  for  one  horse 
to  go  through,  and  he  believed  it  was  a  way  out.  This  was 
reviving  news,  and  upon  going  into  it,  I  found  that  it  went 
straight  on  among  the  mountains,  like  a  rent,  or  open  crack,  for 
three  hundred  yards,  and  then  turned  to  the  left  for  about  fifty 
more,  when  it  winded  a  little,  and  began  to  extend  wider  and 
wider  every  yard,  till  it  brought  us  by  several  turnings  to  the 
beginning  of  a  fine  valley,  where  we  again  found  the  river  we  had 
seen  in  the  bottom  of  the  deep  glen,  and  perceived  that  it  ended 
in  a  great  water,  and  went  off  in  some  subterranean  way.  The 
mountains  were  almost  close  to  this  fine  water,  on  either  hand, 
for  near  half  a  mile,  and  made  a  delightful  rural  scene.  We  could 
see  the  river,  as  we  looked  up  it,  come  tumbling  on  for  a  great 
way  between  the  steep  rocky  precipices  ;  and  the  broad  bright 
lake  it  formed  between  vast  frowning  mountains,  with  wood 
and  lawns  in  it,  at  the  end  of  the  vale,  were  altogether  a  view 
most  charming.  This  made  me  more  highly  value  Orton  Lodge. 

There  is  a  cave  there  likewise,  that  adds  great  beauty  to  the 
place,  and  in  charms  and  wonders,  exceeds  the  grot  of  Tunis,  a 
few  miles  east  of  Carthage,  directly  under  Cape  Bonn,  formerly 
called  the  promontory  of  Mercury,  where  ^Eneas  sheltered  after 
the  storm  ;  *  and  St.  Donat's  Cave  f  in  Glamorganshire,  which 

*  Dr.  Shaw,  in  his  Travels,  shews  that  the  cave  near  Cape  Bonn  was  the  grot  which  Virgil 
describes  in  the  following  manner  : 

"  Defessi  ^Eneada,  quae  proxima  litora.  cursu 
Contendunt  petere,  et  Lybiae  vertuntur  ad  oras. 
Est  in  secessu  longo  locus :    insula  portum 
Efficit  objectu  laterum,  quibus  omnis  ab  alto 
Frangitur  inque  sinus  scindit  sese  unda  reductos. 

f  St.  Donat's  Cave,  by  the  vulgar  called  Reynard's  Church,  in  Glamorganshire  is  on 
hundred  and  sixty  feet  in  length,  the  breadth  forty-three,  and  the  height  thirty-four.  Every 
spring  tide  fills  it  with  water,  and  has  smoothed  it  to  perfection.  At  the  upper  end  of  it, 
there  is  a  grand  seat,  arched  into  the  stone,  and  near  it  a  falling-spring  of  fresh  water  drops 
into  a  cistern  it  has  made.  The  rushing  tides  have  made  good  seats  in  the  sides  of  the  rock, 
and  from  them  you  have  a  view  of  the  channel,  which  is  seven  leagues.  Every  ship  that 
sails  to  and  from  Bristol,  is  seen,  and  the  mountains  of  Somersetshire  bound  the  prospect 
that  way.  The  cliff  over  the  cave  is  almost  double  the  height  of  the  grot,  and  to  the  very 
edge  of  the  precipice,  the  cattle  come  to  graze,  to  avoid  the  insects,  who  will  not  approach 
the  sea-breezes.  The  whole  is  a  charming  scene. 


144  THE  LIFE  OF 


is  much  more  beautiful  than  the  African  grot  described  in  the 
first  Mneid. 

Hinc  atque  hinc  vasts  rupes,  gcminique  minantur 
In  ccelum  scopuli.     Quorum  sub  vertice  late 
jEquora  tuta  silent.    Turn  sylvis  scena  coruscis 
Desuper  horrentique  atrum  nemus  imminet  umbra; 
Fronte  sub  adversa  scopulis  pendentibus  antrum, 
Intus  aquae  dulces,  vivoque  sedilia  saxo, 
Nympharum  domus." 

The  weary  Trojans  ply  their  shatter'd  oars 
To  nearest  land,  and  make  the  Lybian  shores.  D 

The  Trojans,  weary'd  with  the  storms,  explore 

The  nearest  land,  and  reach  the  Lybian  shore.  P 

Within  a  long  recess  there  lies  a  bay, 

An  island  shades  it  from  the  rolling  sea, 

And  forms  a  port  secure  for  ships  to  ride, 

Broke  by  the  jutting  land  on  either  side : 

In  double  streams  the  briny  waters  glide.  D 

Far  in  a  deep  recess,  her  jutting  sides 

An  isle  projects,  to  break  the  rolling  tides 

And  forms  a  port,  where,  curling  from  the  sea 

The  waves  steal  back,  and  wind  into  a  bay.  P 

Betwixt  two  rows  of  rocks,  a  sylvan  scene 

Appears  above,  and  groves  for  ever  green.  D 

On  either  side,  sublime  in  air,  arise 

Two  tow'ring  rocks,  whose  summits  brave  the  skies ; 

Low  at  their  feet  the  sleeping  ocean  lies: 

Crown' d  with  a  gloomy  shade  of  waving  woods, 

Their  awful  brows  hang  nodding  o'er  the  floods.  p 

A  grot  is  form'd  beneath,  with  mossy  seats 

To  rest  the  Nereids,  and  exclude  the  heats : 

Down  through  the  crannies  of  the  living  walls 

The  crystal  streams  descend  in  murm'ring  falls.  D 

Oppos'd  to  these,  a  secret  grotto  stands, 

The  haunt  of  Nereids,  fram'd  by  nature's  hands ; 

Where  polish'd  seats  appear  of  living  stone, 

And  limpid  rills,  that  tinkle  as  they  run.  P 

There  lies  a  harbour  far  within  the  land, 

Commodious  form'd  by  an  opposing  isle : 

Which  breaking  as  a  mound  the  furious  waves, 

They  run  divided,  calmer  then  unite. 

On  each  side  rocks,  and  two  with  steepy  height 

Aspiring  touch  the  clouds,    safe  at  whose  feet 

The  waters  far  and  near  pacific  sleep. 

Distant  from  these  a  sylvan  scene,  beyond, 

To  bound  the  prospects,  woods  with  horrent  shade. 

Op'ning  to  view,  beneath  the  hanging  rocks 

A  cave ;    within,  a  fountain  pure ;    and  seats 

Form'd  from  the  living  stone ;    the  cool  recess 

Of  nymphs.  S 

This  grot  within  a  mountain  over-shaded  with  trees,  and  lying  open  to  the  sea,  with  a  cliff 
on  each  side  and  not  far  from  Carthage,  answers  so  well  to  the  Nympharum  domus  of  Virgil,* 
that  I  think  we  need  not  doubt  of  its  being  the  cave  into  which  the  gallant  ^Eneas  led  the 
gracious  queen  :  but  that  it  ever  was  a  quarry,  and  that  pillars  were  made  by  the  workmen  to 
support  the  roof,  as  Dr.  Shaw  says,  does  not  seem  to  be  the  case.  The  whole  grot,  which 
goes  in  thirty-six  fathoms  under  the  hill,  its  arches,  and  pillars  were  undoubtedly  by  the 
hand  of  nature  ;  like  many  others  I  have  seen.  So  it  appeared  to  me.  I  could  not  see  the 
least  sign  of  a  labouring  hand  in  this  cave. 

*  The  kingdom  of  Tunis  in  the  west  of  Barbary  in  Afric,  was  once  the  celebrated  republic 
of  Carthage.  The  city  of  Carthage  was  about  four  miles  from  the  spot  the  city  of  Tunis  now 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  145 

The  cave  in  Stanemore  is  in  the  bottom  of  a  perpendicular 
mountain  of  a  vast  height,  the  east  side  of  the  lake  and  four  yards 
from  the  shore.  The  entrance  is  a  grand  sweep,  high  and  broad 
as  the  grot,  that  is,  in  breadth  fifty  two  feet,  in  height  fifty  nine. 
It  is  an  hundred  and  forty  seven  feet  long.  The  stone  of  it  is 
extremely  beautiful ;  of  a  yellow  and  reddish  colour,  bright  and 
glittering,  and  beautifully  variegated  with  arched  and  undulated 
veins  of  various  tinges.  I  broke  off  a  piece  of  it,  and  found  it  a 
congeries  of  plates  of  spar,  stained  with  a  fine  mixture  of  colours. 
It  is  a  species  of  the  alabaster,  called  M armor  Onychites,  on  account 
of  its  tabulated  zones,  resembling  those  of  the  onyx,  and  is  very 
little  inferior  to  the  ^Egyptian  alabaster.  This  Stanemore  stone 
is  far  beyond  the  Cornish  and  Derbyshire  alabaster.  The  caverns 
there  are  but  encrusted  with  a  sparry  substance,  as  I  have  found 
upon  various  examinations  ;  and,  as  is  evident  to  every  eye  that 
sees  the  workman  making  the  elegant  vases  and  chimney-columns 
we  have  of  the  alabaster  of  those  counties  ;  whereas  in  Stanemore 
this  alabaster  consists  of  strata  of  sparry  substance,  though 
somewhat  coarser  than  this  kind  of  ^Egyptian  stone. 

The  top  of  the  cave  is  a  bold  arch,  finished  beyond  all  that  art 
could  do,  and  the  floor  as  smooth  as  it  is  possible  to  make  the 
stone.  At  the  far  end  of  the  grot,  there  are  a  dozen  rows  of 
seats  like  benches,  that  rise  one  above  another.  The  uppermost 
will-  hold  but  two  people,  on  each  of  the  others  a  dozen  may 
sit  with  ease  ;  they  make  the  place  look  as  if  it  was  the  assembly 
room,  or  council  chamber  of  the  water-nymphs.  There  was  no 
water  dropping  from  the  roof  of  this  cave  ;  but  in  a  thousand 
places,  where  moss  had  agreeably  covered  the  walls,  it  crept 
through  the  sides,  and  formed  streams  that  ran  softly  over  the 
ground,  and  had  worn  it  smooth.  It  brought  to  my  remembrance 
some  very  poetical  lines  in  Lucretius  : — 

"  Noctivagi  sylvestria  templa  tenebant 
Nympharum,  quibus  exibant  humore  fluente 
Lubrica,  proluvie  larga  lavere  humida  saxa, 
Humida  Saxa  super  viridi  stillantia  musco 

Et  partim  piano  scatere  atque  erumpere  campo." 

"  And  then  by  night  they  took  their  rest  in  caves, 
Where  little  streams  roll  on  with  silent  waves  ; 
They  bubble  through  the  stones,  and  softly  creep, 
As  fearful  to  disturb  the  nymphs  that  sleep. 
The  moss  spread  o'er  the  marbles,  seems  to  weep." 

This  was  exactly  the  case  of  the  water  in  this  fine  cave.     In 

stands  on.  Many  ruins  of  it  are  still  remaining.  This  glorious  city,  was  twenty-three  miles 
round,  and  built  near  an  hundred  years  before  Rome,  was  taken  and  utterly  rased  by  young 
Africanus,  that  is,  Scipio  yEmilianus,  before  Christ  146  years.  It  had  disputed  with  Rome 
for  the  empire  of  the  world,  for  the  space  of  118  years.  The  most  beautiful  village  in  the 
world,  called  Marsa,  now  stands  in  the  western  point  of  ancient  Carthage,  and  from  thence 
it  is  a  fine  walk  to  Dido's  Cave  under  Cape-Bonn. 


146  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  lowest  harmony,  it  gently  fell  over  the  slanting  floor,  and  as 
Oldham  has  it — 

"  Away  the  streams  did  with  such  softness  creep, 
As  'twere  by  their  own  murmurs  lull'd  asleep." 

Such  was  the  delightful  spot  I  at  last  discovered,  when  I 
thought  I  was  come  to  the  ne  plus  ultra,  that  is,  had  gone  on  till 
I  could  go  no  further  ;  and  now  seeing  how  my  way  lay,  I  departed 
from  Orton  Lodge  betimes  the  next  morning,  June  19th,  leaving 
my  lad  O'Fin  to  keep  possession  of  the  place  till  I  returned,  and 
with  the  other  boy  went  through  the  la.wns  in  the  wood  I  have 
mentioned  at  the  end  of  the  vale.  This  brought  me  to  a  range  of 
mountains  most  frightful  to  behold,  and  to  the  top  of  them,  with 
great  toil,  we  made  a  shift  to  climb,  and  from  thence  descended 
through  many  perils  to  a  bottom  between  the  hills  we  had  come 
down,  and  some  mountains  that  stood  at  a  small  distance  from 
them.  This  low  ground  trended  north  and  north-west  for  an 
hour,  and  then  turned  north-east  for  three  hours  more,  a  very 
bad  way  ;  stony  and  wet,  and  some  stiff  pieces  of  road  :  but  the 
bottoms  brought  us  at  last  into  a  large  and  spacious  plain,  that 
was  surrounded  with  hills,  whose  tops  and  sides  were  covered 
with  antient  trees  and  lofty  groves,  and  some  mountains  whose 
heads  were  above  the  clouds.  Flowers  and  clover,  and  other 
herbs,  adorned  the  ground,  and  it  was  watered  with  many  never- 
drying  streams.  The  plain  seemed  a  vast  amphitheatre,  by 
nature  formed  ;  and  variety  and  disposition  refreshed  the  eyes 
whatever  way  they  turned. 

In  the  very  centre  of  this  ground,  I  found  a  house  and  gardens 
that  charmed  me  very  much.  The  mansion  had  a  rusticity  and 
wildness  in  its  aspect,  beyond  anything  I  had  seen,  and  looked 
like  a  mass  of  materials  jumbled  together  without  order  or  design. 
There  was  no  appearance  of  rule  in  any  part,  and  where  a  kind 
of  proportion  was  to  be  seen,  it  seemed  as  a  start  into  truth,  by 
the  inadvertent  head  of  blind  chance.  It  was  the  most  Gothic 
whimsical,  four- fronted  thing,  without,  that  ever  my  eyes  beheld  ; 
and  within,  the  most  convenient,  comfortable  dwelling  I  have 
seen. 

This  edifice,  which  looks  more  like  a  small  Gothic  cathedral, 
than  a  house,  stands  in  the  middle  of  large  gardens,  which  are 
not  only  very  fine,  but  uncommon,  and  different  from  all  the 
gardens  I  have  been  in.  There  is  no  more  rule  observed  in  them, 
than  in  the  house  ;  but  the  plantations  of  trees,  and  plots  of 
flowers,  the  raised  hills,  the  artificial  valleys,  the  streams  that 
water  these  vales,  and  the  large  pieces  of  water,  and  lakes,  they 
have  brought  in  and  formed,  are  inexpressibly  charming  and 
fine.  Wild  and  natural  they  seem,  and  are  a  beautiful  imitation 
of  the  most  beautiful  scenes  of  nature.  The  wilderness,  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  147 

openings,  the  parterres,  the  gardens,  the  streams,  the  lakes, 
the  cascades,  the  valleys,  and  the  rising  grounds,  in  the  most 
various  disposition,  and  as  if  art  had  little,  or  no  hand  in  the 
designs,  have  an  admirable  effect  upon  the  eye. 

The  passages  from  valley  to  valley,  between  the  hills  they  have 
made,  are  not  by  formal  straight  walks,  but  by  windings  in 
various  ways,  which  are  decorated  with  little  grotto's,  and 
diversified  in  the  manner  of  laying  out  the  ground  :  the  streams 
and  canals  sometimes  serpent,  and  sometimes  spread  away. 
Rocks  are  artfully  placed,  seem  to  push  the  waters  off,  and  on  the 
banks  are  seeming  wild  productions  of  flowers.  As  the  hills  and 
risings  are  sprinkled  with  flowery  trees,  so  are  these  banks  with 
all  the  sweets  that  grow.  Small  boats  are  on  the  running  streams, 
and  over  them  in  many  places,  are  winding  bridges  of  wood,  most 
ingeniously  and  finely  made.  These  streams  which  they  have 
from  the  mountains,  supply  the  larger  pieces  of  water  ;  and  in 
the  largest  of  those  lakes  they  had  raised  a  rock,  in  the  most 
natural  manner.  On  this  is  a  summer-house  of  great  beauty. 
It  is  the  reverse  of  the  mansion,  and  has  every  charm  that  pure 
architecture  could  give  it.  It  is  large  enough  for  a  small  family. 

When  I  came  up  to  this  seat,  which  the  owners  of  it  call  Ulubrae, 
some  gentlemen,  who  were  in  the  gardens,  saw  me,  and  saved  me 
the  trouble  of  asking  admission,  by  inviting  me  in  with  the 
greatest  civility  ;  but  they  seemed  under  a  vast  surprise  at 
my  arrival ;  and  much  more  so,  when  I  gave  them  an  account  of 
the  way  I  had  travelled.  It  appeared  almost  incredible.  They 
had  not  a  notion  of  such  a  journey.  They  told  me  I  was  in 
Yorkshire  now,  and  had  been  so  when  I  ascended  the  high 
mountains  that  are  some  miles  behind  the  hills  that  surround 
their  house  ;  but  they  did  not  imagine  there  was  any  travelling 
over  those  mountains,  and  the  alps  upon  alps  beyond  them,  to 
Brugh  under  Stanemore.  The  way,  they  said,  was  very  bad 
from  their  house  to  Eggleston,  or  Bowes,  on  account  of  hills, 
waters,  and  wet  bottoms  ;  it  was  worse  to  travel  northward  to 
Bishoprick  ;  and  scarce  passable  to  the  north-east  to  Cumberland. 
What  then  must  it  be  to  journey  as  I  had  done  over  the  northern 
fells  of  Westmoreland,  and  the  bad  part  of  Yorkshire-Stanemore 
I  had  passed. 

"It  was  a  terrible  way,  "I  replied,  "and  what  I  of  ten  despaired  of 
coming  through,  even  at  the  hazard  of  my  life.  Frequently  we 
were  locked  in  by  chains  of  precipices,  and  thought  we  should 
never  find  a  pass  :  some  of  the  mountains  were  so  steep,  that  it 
was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  we  could  lead  the  horses  up  and 
down  them  :  and  many  rivers  were  so  rapid  and  rocky  at  bottom, 
that  we  were  often  in  danger  of  being  lost ;  beside,  if  fortune  had 
not  conducted  us  to  the  habitations  of  people  we  little  expected 
to  find,  we  might  have  perished  for  want  of  food,  as  my  servant 


148  THE  LIFE  OF 


could  not  bring  from  Brugh  provisions  sufficient  for  so  long  and 
uncertain  a  way.  All  these  difficulties  I  saw  very  soon  ;  in  less 
than  a  day's  ride  to  the  north  from  the  Bell  Inn  on  the  southern 
edge  of  Stanemore  ;  a  little  lone  public-house,  that  lies  half-way 
the  turn-pike  road,  on  the  left  hand,  as  the  traveller  goes  from 
Bowes  to  Brugh,  Penrith,  and  Carlisle ;  but  friendship  and 
curiosity  were  too  many  for  all  the  obstacles  in  the  way,  and  in 
hopes  of  finding  a  beloved  friend,  who  lives  somewhere  towards 
the  northern  edge  of  Yorkshire  or  Westmoreland,  or  on  the 
neighbouring  confines  of  Bishoprick,  or  Cumberland  ;  and  that  I 
might  see  a  part  of  England,  which  even  the  borderers  on  it  are 
strangers  to,  and  of  which  Camden  had  not  an  idea  "  ;  *  I  went  on, 
"and  have  had  success  thus  far.  The  journey  has  been  worth  my 
pains.  I  have  beheld  the  most  delightful  scenes,  and  met  with 
very  extraordinary  things  :  and  should  I  find  my  friend  at  last, 
my  labours  will  be  highly  rewarded  indeed." 

The  gentlemen  I  was  talking  to,  seemed  to  wonder  very  much 
at  me  and  my  discourse  ;  and  as  the  rest  of  the  society  by  this 
time  came  into  the  parlour,  they  introduced  me  to  them,  and  then 
related  what  I  had  said.  They  all  allowed  it  was  very  extra- 
ordinary, and  requested  I  would  oblige  them  with  some  particulars 
that  occurred.  I  did  so  immediately,  and  told  them,  among 
other  things,  of  my  reception  at  Burcot  Lodge,  and  of  the  skeleton 
of  JOHN  ORTON  which  I  found  in  the  cottage  on  the  side  of  the 
woody  hill.  I  let  them  know  the  goods  and  conveniences  I  saw 
there,  and  that  I  was  so  pleased  with  the  beauties  of  the  place, 
the  little  mansion,  the  once  fine  gardens,  and  the  useful  things 
on  the  premises,  that  I  intended  to  return  to  it,  and  make  it  my 
summer  retreat ;  that  I  had  left  a  man  there  to  that  purpose, 
who  was  at  work  in  the  garden,  and  expected  to  be  back  in  a 
month's  time,  with  such  things  as  were  wanting  to  make  it  an 
agreeable  and  comfortable  little  country  house. 

The  philosophers  wondered  not  a  little  at  what  they  heard. 
If  they  were  surprised  at  seeing  me  as  a  traveller  in  such  a  place, 
they  were  much  more  astonished  at  my  relation.  They  could  not 
enough  admire  Mrs  BURCOT  and  Mrs  FLETCHER.  The  history 
of  the  penitent  ORTON,  they  thought  very  strange.  They  told 
me  they  were  glad  I  had  a  thought  of  making  Orton  Lodge  a 
summer  retreat,  and  hoped  it  would  occasion  my  calling  upon 
them  many  times  ;  that  I  should  always  be  heartily  welcome  to 

*  I  have  already  observed  [p.  126],  that  Camden,  and  every  other  describer  of  Eng- 
land, had  not  the  least  notion  of  Stanemore,  that  is,  the  north  fells  of  Westmoreland 
and  the  northern  mountains  of  Richmondshire  :  and  as  to  the  people  who  live  on  the  borders 
of  Stanemore,  I  could  not  find  so  much  as  one  man  in  Richmond,  Greta-bridge,  Bowes,  and 
Brugh,  that  had  been  any  length  of  way  up  the  mountains.  When  I  asked  RAILTON,  the 
quaker,  a  very  knowing  man,  who  keeps  the  George  at  Bowes,  what  sort  of  a  country  Stane- 
more was  ?  He  answered,  "It  is,  after  a  few  miles  riding  more  wild  and  mountainy  than  the 
highlands  of  Scotland,  and  impassable  ";nay,  my  landlord  at  Eggleston,  some  miles  within 
Stanemore,  knew  nothing  of  the  mountains  upon  mountains  that  are  far  beyond  his  house. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  149 

their  house,  and  might  with  less  difficulty  go  backwards  and 
forwards,  as  their  lodge  was  at  my  service,  whenever  I  was  pleased 
to  do  them  the  favour  to  call.  This  was  civil,  and  I  returned 
them  the  thanks  they  deserved. 

Here  dinner  was  brought  in,  and  with  these  gentleman  I  sat 
down  to  several  excellent  dishes.  There  was  the  best  of  every 
kind  of  meat  and  drink,  and  it  was  served  up  in  the  most  elegant 
manner  :  their  wine  in  particular  was  old  and  generous,  and  they 
gave  it  freely.  We  took  a  cheerful  glass  after  dinner,  and  laughed 
a  couple  of  hours  away  in  a  delightful  manner.  They  were  quite 
polite,  friendly  and  obliging  ;  and  I  soon  found  in  conversing 
with  them,  that  they  were  men  of  great  reading,  and  greater 
abilities.  Philosophy  had  not  saddened  their  tempers. 
They  were  as  lively  companions,  as  they  were  wise  and  learned 
men. 

These  gentlemen  are  twenty  in  number,  men  of  fortune,  who 
had  agreed  to  live  together,  on  the  plan  of  a  college  described 
by  Evelyn  in  his  letter  to  the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle  ;  but,  with  this 
difference,  that  they  have  no  chaplain,  may  rise  when  they  please, 
go  and  come  as  they  think  fit,  and  every  one  is  not  obliged  to 
cultivate  his  garden.  Every  member  lays  down  a  hundred 
pounds  on  the  first  day  of  the  year,  and  out  of  that  fund  they 
live,  pay  their  servants,  keep  their  horses,  and  purchase  everything 
the  society  requires.  What  is  wanting  at  home,  this  stock 
produces,  and  is  to  be  expended  only  at  Ulubrae,  for  everything 
necessary  and  comfortable,  except  raiment  and  horses.  When 
they  are  abroad,  it  is  at  a  plus-expence. 

I  call  these  gentlemen  philosophers,  because  exclusive  of  their 
good  morals,  they  devote  the  principal  part  of  their  time  to 
natural  philosophy  and  mathematics,  and  had,  when  I  first  saw 
them,  made  a  great  number  of  fine  experiments  and  observations 
in  the  works  of  nature,  though  they  had  not  been  a  society  for 
more  than  four  years.  They  make  records  of  everything  extra- 
ordinary which  comes  within  their  cognizance,  and  registerevery 
experiment  and  observation.  I  saw  several  fine  things  in  their 
transactions,  and  among  them  a  most  ingenious  and  new  method 
of  determining  expeditiously  the  tangents  of  curve  lines  ;  which 
you  know,  mathematical  reader,  is  a  very  prolix  calculus,  in  the 
common  way  :  and  as  the  determination  of  the  tangents  of 
curves  is  of  the  greatest  use,  because  such  determinations  exhibit 
the  quadratures  of  curvilinear  spaces,  an  easy  method  in  doing 
the  thing,  is  a  promotion  of  geometry  in  the  best  manner.  The 
rule  is  this. 

Suppose  B  D  E  the  curve,  B  C  the  abscissa  =  x,  C  D  the 
ordinate  =  y,  A  B  the  tangent  line  =  t,  and  the  nature  of  the 
curve  be  such,  that  the  greatest  power  of  y  ordinate  be  on  one 
side  of  the  equation  ;  then  y3  =  — x3  — x  x  y  +  x  y  y — a3  +aay 


THE  LIFE  OF 


— a  a  x  +a  x  x — a  y  y  :  but  if  the  greatest  power  of  y  be  wanting, 
the  terms  must  be  put  =O 


Then  make  a  fraction  and  numerator  ;  the  numerator,  by 
taking  all  the  terms,  wherein  the  known  quantity  is,  with  all 
their  signs  ;  and  if  the  known  quantity  be  of  one  dimension,  to 
prefix  unity,  and  of  two,  2,  if  of  three,  3,  and  you  will  have — 3  a3 
+  2  a  a  y — 2  a  a  x  +a  x  x — ay  y  : 

The  fraction,  by  assuming  the  terms  wherein  the  abscissa  x 
occurs,  and  retaining  the  signs,  and  if  the  quantity  x  be  of  one 
dimension,  to  prefix  unity,  as  above,  etc.,  etc.  ;  and  then  it  will 
be — 3  #3 — 2  x  x  y  +x  y  y — a  a  x  +  2  a  x  x  :  then  diminish  each 
of  these  by  x,  and  the  denominator  will  be — 3  x  x — 2  x  y  +y  y — 
a  a +2  ax. 

This  fraction  is  equal  to  A  B,  and  therefore  t  is  = 


In  this  easy  way  may  the  tangents  of  all  geometrical  curves 
be  exhibited  ;  and  I  add,  by  the  same  method,  if  you  are  skilful, 
may  the  tangents  of  infinite  mechanical  curves  be  determined. 
Many  other  fine  things,  in  the  mathematical  way,  I  looked  over 
in  the  journal  of  these  gentlemen.  I  likewise  saw  them  perform 
several  extraordinary  experiments. 

They  make  all  the  mathematical  instruments  they  use, 
and  have  brought  the  microscope  in  particular,  to  greater  per- 
fection than  I  have  elsewhere  seen  it.  They  have  them  of  all 
kinds,  of  one  and  more  hemispherules,  and  from  the  invented 
spherule  of  Cardinal  de  Medicis,  not  exceeding  the  smallest 
pearl  placed  in  a  tube,  to  the  largest  that  can  be  used.  They 
had  improved  the  double  reflecting  microscope,  much  farther 
than  Marshal's  is  by  Culpeper  and  Scarlet,  and  made  several 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  151 

good  alterations  in  the  solar  or  camera  obscura  microscope  ; 
and  in  the  catoptric  microscope,  which  is  made  on  the  model 
of  the  Newtonian  telescope. 

In  one  of  their  best  double  reflecting  optical  instruments,  I 
had  a  better  view  of  the  variety  and  true  mixture  of  colours 
than  ever  I  saw  before.  The  origins  and  mixtures  were  finely 
visible.  In  a  common  green  ribbon,  the  yellow,  the  light  red 
and  a  blue,  appeared  distinct  and  very  plain  ;  the  lively  green  was 
a  yellow  and  blue  :  in  a  sea  green,  more  blue  than  yellow  :  the 
yellow  was  a  light  red  and  a  pellucid  white.  All  the  phoenomena 
of  colours  were  here  to  be  found  out. 

In  this  instrument,  the  finest  point  of  a  needle  appeared  more 
blunt  and  unequal,  and  more  like  a  broken  nail,  than  I  had 
before  seen  it.  The  finest  edge  of  a  razor  was  like  the  back  of 
a  dog,  with  the  hair  up.  The  finest  paper,  was  great  hairs,  cavi- 
ties, and  unevenness,  and  the  smoothest  plate  of  glass,  was  very 
rough,  full  of  cracks,  fissures  and  inequalities.  Very  different,  in- 
deed, are  the  things  finished  by  human  art  from  the  things  finished 
by  the  hand  of  nature.  The  points,  the  edges,  the  polish,  the 
angles,  everything  that  nature  produces,  appear  in  the  instru- 
ment in  a  perfection  that  astonishes  the  beholder. 

In  the  views  I  here  took  of  the  vegetable  world,  with  my  eye 
thus  armed,  I  saw  many  extraordinary  things  I  had  never  ob- 
served before.  I  took  notice,  in  particular,  that  a  sage  leaf  is 
covered  with  a  kind  of  cobweb,  in  which  swarms  of  little  active 
creatures,  with  terrible  horns  and  piercing  eyes  are  busily  em- 
ployed :  a  mulbery  leaf  was  an  amazing  flexus  or  network  :  we 
can  see  but  nine  ribs  on  the  sigillum  Solomonis  ;  whereas  my 
armed  eye  perceived  here  seventy-four  :  in  a  nettle  I  observed 
its  whole  surface  covered  over  with  needles  of  the  most  perfect 
polish,  every  one  of  which  had  three  points,  points  very  different 
from  our  finest  points,  not  flat,  but  to  perfection  sharp  ;  and 
that  these  needles  rested  on  a  base,  which  was  a  bag  of  a  flexible 
substance,  in  form  of  a  wild  cucumber,  and  filled  with  a  sharp, 
poisonous  liquor  :  this  is  discharged  at  the  extremity  of  every 
point  of  the  needles  that  cover  the  surface  of  the  nettle  :  from 
a  hole  visible  in  every  point  the  poison  is  thrown  out,  and  excites 
a  sense  of  pain  ;  and  a  heat  arises  as  the  blood  flows  more  copiously 
to  the  wounded  part.  By  pressing  with  my  finger  the  extremity 
of  the  prickles,  the  bag  of  poison  fell ;  and  on  taking  off  my  finger, 
it  swelled  again.  What  a  piece  of  workmanship  is  here  in  a 
nettle  !  Wonderful  are  thy  works,  O  Lord  God  Almighty  ! 

A  leaf  of  sorrel  in  this  microscope  exhibited  to  my  eye  oblong, 
rough  and  straight  atoms,  sharp  as  needles,  and  from  thence  the 
tongue  is  twinged.  In  a  bud  cut  away  with  a  fine  needle  from 
a  steeped  seed  of  a  French-bean,  I  saw  the  entire  plant ;  and  in 
an  almond  so  cut  away,  the  perfect  tree.  Many  other  wonderful 


1 52  THE  LIFE  OF 


things  I  observed  of  the  vegetable  kingdom,  in  the  microscopes 
of  these  gentlemen. 

As  to  the  animal  kingdom,  my  observations  on  it,  in  the 
optical  instruments  at  Ulubrae,  were  so  many,  that  I  could  fill 
a  volume  with  the  things  I  saw  :  but,  as  I  have  little  room  or 
time  to  spare,  I  shall  only  mention  two  or  three.  In  the  double 
reflecting  telescope,  a  louse  and  a  flea  were  put ;  which  are  crea- 
tures that  hate  each  other  as  much  as  spiders  do,  and  fight  to 
death  when  they  meet.  The  flea  appeared  first  in  the  box,  and 
as  he  was  magnified  very  greatly,  he  looked  like  a  locust  without 
wings  ;  with  a  roundish  body,  that  is  obtuse  at  the  end,  and  the 
breast  covered  with  an  armature  of  a  triangular  figure  ;  the 
head  small  in  proportion  to  its  body,  but  the  eyes  large,  red,  and 
very  fierce  ;  his  six  legs  were  long,  robust  and  made  for  leaping  ; 
the  antenna  short,  but  firm  and  sharp  ;  its  tail  was  scaly,  and 
full  of  stings,  and  its  mouth  pointed  into  active  pincers  :  his 
colour  was  a  deep  purple. 

The  louse  in  white  was  next  brought  on,  and  had  a  well  shaped, 
oblong  indented  body  :  his  six  legs  were  short,  made  for  walking 
and  running,  and  each  of  them  armed  at  the  extremity  with  two 
terrible  claws  :  the  head  was  large,  and  the  eyes  very  small  and 
black  :  its  horns  were  short  and  jointed,  and  could  be  thrust 
forward  with  a  spring.  Its  snout  was  pointed,  and  opened, 
contracted,  and  penetrated  in  a  wonderful  manner. 

The  first  that  was  brought  on  the  stage  was  the  flea,  and  to 
show  us  what  an  active  one  he  was,  he  sprung  and  bounced  at 
a  strange  rate  :  the  velocity  of  his  motions  in  leaping  were 
astonishing  ;  and  sometimes,  he  would  tumble  over  and  over 
in  a  wanton  way  :  but  the  moment  the  louse  appeared,  he  stood 
stock  still,  gathered  himself  up,  and  fixed  his  flashing  eyes  on  his 
foe.  The  gallant  louse  did  with  a  frown  for  some  time  behold 
him,  and  then  crouching  down,  began  very  softly  to  move  towards 
him,  when  the  flea  gave  a  leap  on  his  enemy,  and  with  his  danger- 
ous tail  and  pinching  mouth  began  to  battle  with  great  fury  ; 
but  the  louse  soon  made  him  quit  his  hold,  by  hurting  him  with 
his  claws  and  wounding  him  with  his  sharp  snout.  This  made 
the  flea  skip  to  the  other  side  of  the  box,  and  they  both  kept  at 
a  distance  for  near  a  minute  looking  with  great  indignation  at 
each  other,  and  offering  several  times  to  advance.  The  louse 
did  it  at  last  in  a  race,  and  then  the  flea  flew  at  him,  which  pro- 
duced a  battle  as  terrible  as  ever  was  fought  by  two  wild  beasts. 
Every  part  of  their  bodies  was  in  a  most  violent  motion,  and 
sometimes  the  flea  was  uppermost,  but  more  frequently  the  louse. 
They  did  bite,  and  thrust,  and  claw  one  another  most  furiously, 
and  the  consequence  of  the  dreadful  engagement  was,  that  the 
flea  expired,  and  the  louse  remained  victor  in  the  box  :  but  he 
was  so  much  wounded,  that  he  could  scarce  walk.  This  battle 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ*  153 

was  to  me  a  very  surprising  thing,  as  each  of  them  was  magnified 
to  the  size  of  two  feet :  but  considering  what  specs  or  atoms  of 
animated  matter  they  were,  it  was  astonishing  to  reflection  to 
behold  the  amazing  mechanism  of  these  two  minute  things, 
which  appeared  in  their  exertions  during  the  fray.  It  was  still 
more  strange  to  see  the  aversion  these  small  creatures  had  to 
each  other,  the  passions  that  worked  in  their  little  breasts,  and 
the  judgment  they  showed  in  their  endeavours  to  destroy  one 
another.  It  is  indeed  a  wonderful  affair  :  nor  was  it  the  least 
part  of  admiration  to  see  through  the  extraordinary  transparencies 
of  the  louse,  the  violent  circulation  of  the  blood  in  its  heart. 
This  was  as  plain  to  my  eye,  as  red  liquor  forced  by  a  pump  in 
several  experiments  through  circulating  glass  pipes.  As  to  the 
dead  flea  it  was  opened,  and  by  the  camera  obscura  or  solar 
microscope,  which  magnifies  the  picture  of  such  a  body  as  a  flea, 
to  eight  feet ;  *  we  saw  the  intestines  distinguished  and  arranged 
in  a  manner  that  cannot  be  enough  admired.  It  was  full  of 
eggs,  and  in  every  egg  were  many  half-formed  young  ones. 

The  water  Aranea,  or  great  water  spider,  was  next  put  in,  and 
made  a  wonderful  appearance  in  his  greatly  magnified  state.  It 
is  the  largest  of  the  spider  kind,  except  the  native  of  Apulia, 
called  the  Tarantula,  and  is  furnished  at  the  head  with  a  hard 
black  forceps  which  resembles  that  of  the  Apulian  araneus  : 
the  colour  of  its  oval  body  is  a  bluish  black,  and  has  a  transverse 
line  and  two  spots  hollowed  in  it ;  its  eight  legs  are  very  long,  the 
joints  large,  and  the  little  bones  of  the  feet  have  different  articu- 
lations :  it  was  armed  with  bristles  like  a  boar,  and  had  claws 
very  black,  not  unlike  an  eagle  :  it  had  eight  eyes  and  six  of 
them  were  disposed  in  form  of  a  half  moon  on  the  forehead  ;  the 
other  two  were  on  the  crown  of  the  forehead  :  one  to  the  left,  the 
other  to  the  right.  This  disposition  affords  light  to  the  whole 
body,  and  as  these  eyes  are  well  furnished  with  crystalline 
humours,  they  are  sharp  sighted  beyond  all  creatures,  and  so 
nimbly  hunt  down  flies  :  the  mouth  was  full  of  teeth,  and  they 
looked  like  short  thick  hairs. 

*  Though  the  image  of  a  flea  may  be  magnified  to  eight  feet,  by  removing  farther  off  the 
white  paper  screen,  on  which  the  picture  of  the  object  is  thrown  very  beautifully  from  the 
object  posited  in  a  single  pocket  microscope  that  is  fastened  to  a  tube  to  the  solar  microscope, 
yet  the  image  or  picture  is  more  distinct  and  exact,  when  not  enlarged  to  more  than  three 
feet,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  darkened  room.  By  the  way,  reader,  the  solar  microscope 
is  the  most  entertaining  of  all  the  microscopes,  and  by  it  without  any  skill  in  drawing  you 
may  easily  make  an  exact  picture  of  any  animal  or  object  you  can  put  into  the  fastened 
pocket  microscope.  The  object  is  so  intensely  illuminated  by  the  sun  beams  collected  by 
a  convex  lens,  that  are  thrown  on  it  by  a  looking-glass,  that  its  picture  is  most  perfect 
and  plainly  represented  on  the  white  screen.  You  may  have  a  mite,  or  one  of  the  imper- 
ceptible animals  of  rotten  wood,  so  truly  and  greatly  magnified,  as  easily  to  sketch  out  the 
exact  image  of  it  in  all  its  wonderful  parts,  with  a  pencil  or  pin  :  and  in  this  amusing  work, 
and  in  transferring  the  objects  from  the  solar  to  the  double  reflecting  microscope,  the  catoptric 
microscope,  and  the  microscope  for  opaque  objects,  how  usefully  and  delightfully  might  a 
young  man  of  fortune  employ  many  hours  that  are  miserably  sauntered  away  or  consumed 
in  senseless  and  illicit  delights  ? 


154  THE  LIFE  OF 


In  opposition  to  this  amphibious  creature,  which  walks  on  the 
mud  at  the  bottom  of  standing  waters,  as  well  as  on  the  banks, 
the  silvery-green  bodied  spider  was  put  into  the  box,  which  is 
one  of  the  class  that  lives  in  the  woods,  where  it  squats  down  on 
the  branches  of  trees,  and  throws  four  of  its  legs  forward,  and 
four  backward,  extending  them  straight  along  the  bow  ;  but  the 
great  water  aranea,  with  his  terrible  weapon,  the  black  forceps, 
in  a  minute  destroyed  it,  and  we  took  the  dead  body  out,  to  put 
in  its  place  the  red  and  yellow  spider,  which  is  a  larger  and 
stronger  kind  ;  this  made  a  battle  for  two  minutes,  and  hurt  his 
foe  ;  but  he  could  not  stand  it  longer  and  he  expired  at  the  victor's 
feet. 

These  things  were  a  fine  entertainment  to  me,  as  I  had  not 
before  seen  a  solar,  catoptric,  or  improved  double-reflecting 
microscope.  I  had  now  a  nearer  view  of  the  skilful  works  of 
the  supreme  Artificer.  With  admiration  I  beheld  the  magnified 
objects,  the  wonderful  arrangement  of  the  intestines  of  the  flea, 
the  motion  and  ebullition  of  the  blood  of  a  louse,  the  various 
spiders,  their  forms,  so  astonishingly  framed,  the  gnat,  that 
elephant  in  so  small  a  miniature,  the  amazing  form  of  the  ant, 
the  astonishing  claws  and  beautiful  wings  of  a  fly  ;  the  bones, 
nerves,  arteries,  veins,  and  moving  blood  in  this  very  minute 
animal ;  the  wonderful  bee,  its  claws,  its  colours,  and  distinct 
rows  of  teeth,  with  which  it  sips  the  flowers,  and  carries  the  honey 
home  in  its  stomach,  but  brings  the  wax  externally  on  its  thighs, 
and  a  thousand  other  things  which  manifest  a  Creator.  In 
every  object  I  viewed  in  the  optical  instruments,  my  eyes 
beheld  one  wise  being  and  supreme  cause  of  all  things.  Every 
insect,  herb,  and  spire  of  grass,  declare  eternal  power  and  god- 
head. Not  only  the  speech  and  language  of  the  heavens,  but  of 
all  the  works  and  parts  of  nature  is  gone  out  into  all  the  earth : 
and  to  the  ends  of  the  world  ;  loudly  proclaiming,  that  thou,  O 
God,  art  Lord  alone  :  Thou  hast  made  heaven,  the  heaven  of 
heavens,  and  all  their  hosts  ;  the  earth,  and  all  things  that  are 
therein  ;  therefore  be  thou  our  Lord  God  for  ever  and  ever.  -.  j 

The  library  belonging  to  these  gentlemen  is  a  very  fine  one, 
and  contains  many  thousand  volumes  ;  but  is  much  more  valu- 
able for  the  intrinsic  merit,  than  the  number  of  the  books  :  and 
as  to  ancient  manuscripts,  there  is  a  large  store  of  great  value  : 
they  had  likewise  many  other  curious  monuments  of  antiquity  ; 
statues,  paintings,  medals,  and  coins,  silver,  gold,  and  brass; 
To  describe  those  fine  things  would  require  a  volume.  Among 
the  books,  I  saw  the  editions  of  the  old  authors,  by  the  famous 
printers  of  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  centuries  ;  editions  greatly 
prized  and  sought  after  by  most  of  the  learned  ;  but  these  gentle- 
men did  not  value  them  so  much  as  the  editions  of  the  classics, 
that  have  been  published  within  this  last  century  ;  especially  the 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  155 

quarto  editions  done  in  Holland.  They  showed  me  many  errors 
in  the  Greek  authors  by  the  Stephens'  ;  and  as  to  Plantin,  exclu- 
sive of  his  negligence,  in  several  places,  his  Italic  character  they 
thought  far  inferior  to  the  Roman  in  respect  of  beauty.  All  this 
was  true,  and  it  is  most  certain  that  the  best  corrected  book  are 
the  best  editions  of  the  classics.  They  are  the  best  helps  for  our 
understanding  them.  There  is  no  reason  then  for  laying  out  so 
much  money  for  the  old  editions,  when  in  reality  the  modern  ones 
are  better. 

One  of  the  books  in  this  library,  which  I  chanced  to  take  into 
my  hand  was  the  famous  Vindicice  contra  Tyrannos,  which  came 
out  in  Latin  and  French  in  1579,  under  the  name  of  Stephanus 
Junius  Brutus,  and  is  "  A  Defence  of  Liberty  against  Tyrants." 
This  treatise  proves,  in  the  first  place,  that  subjects  are  not  bound 
to  obey  princes,  if  they  command  that  which  is  against  the  law 
of  God  ;  as  the  worship  of  a  consecrated  wafer,  and  the  theology 
of  St.  Athanasius,  marianolatry,  the  demonolatry,  and  all  the 
diabolism  of  popery.  Secondly,  That  it  is  lawful  to  resist  a 
prince,  who  like  James  II.  endeavours  to  ruin  the  true  church, 
and  makes  the  superstition  of  Rome  the  religion  of  the  land. 
Thirdly,  That  it  is  lawful  to  resist  a  prince,  when  he  oppresses 
and  strives  to  ruin  a  state  ;  like  Charles  I.  who  would  have 
exercised  a  power  contrary  to  the  interest  of  his  people,  contrary 
likewise  to  that  of  the  protestant  religion  ;  *  and  when  James  II. 

*  Many  instances  can  be  produced  of  Charles  the  First's  exerting  a  power  contrary  to 
the  interest  of  the  protestant  religion ;  and  a  capital  one  is,  this  king's  express  and  strict 
orders,  signed  with  his  own  hand,  to  captain  John  Pennington,  to  deliver,  which  he  did,  in 
obedience  thereto,  a  squadron  of  the  naval  forces  of  England,  consisting  of  eight  men  of  war, 
into  the  hands  and  absolute  power  of  the  French  king ;  and  Charles  directed,  "  that  in  case 
of  disobedience  in  the  English  captains  to  that  order,  Pennington  was  to  sink  them."  These 
naval  forces  enabled  the  Gaulish  king  to  break  and  suppress  the  power  of  the  Rochelle  pro- 
testants  :  this  was  an  unjustifiable  step  indeed  in  Charles'  reign :  and  if  to  this  we  add 
thousand  acts  of  this  said  sovereign  Lord,  which  were  the  cause  of  all  the  disagreements 
differences  and  contentions  between  his  majesty  and  his  people,  that  happened  in  his  reign, 
and  the  sources  of  public  calamity,  it  is  certainly  most  amazing,  to  see  the  memory  of  this 
prince  treated  equally,  if  not  superior  to  the  most  celebrated  martyrs  !  torrents  of  tears  have 
1  seen  pour  from  the  eyes  of  our  mourning  theologers  on  the  soth  of  January.  I  remember 
one  time,  when  Dr.  Warren  preached  the  commemoration  sermon  at  St.  Margaret's  West- 
minster, that  he  wept  and  sobbed  so  bitterly  and  calamitously,  that  he  could  hardly  get 
out  the  following  concluding  words  of  his  fine  discourse,  the  Roy — Royal  Ma — Martyr — the 
— holy  Martyr — the — the — blessed  Martyr. 

Nor  can  I  forget  [Dr.  Delany]  the  learned  author  of  The  Life  of  David.  This  gentleman 
preached  before  the  late  Duke  of  Devonshire  in  Christ-Church,  on  Monday,  January  30 
1737,  from  these  words,  Take  away  the  dross  from  the  silver,  and  there  shall  come  forth  a 
vessel  for  the  finer. — Take  away  the  wicked  from  before  the  king,  and  his  throne  shall  be 
established  in  righteousness."  Prov.  ch.  25. 

In  this  fine  sermon,  the  Dr.  gave  us  the  picture  of  a  Man  as  like  Charles  I.  as  Phalaris  was 
to  the  apostle  St.  John  :  he  then  deprecated  the  murder  which  are  his  own  words,  and  in  the 
most  piteous  manner,  with  tears  informed  us,  that  God  gave  us  this  prince  in  his  mercy 
and  took  him  away  in  his  indignation :  "  A  prince."  said  the  doctor,  "  who  was  a  true  lover 
of  his  people,  compassionate  of  their  errors  and  misfortunes  and  religiously  tender  of  tbeir 
well-being.  He  equally  understood  and  practised  religion  in  its  purity ;  and  he  died  de- 
fending it.  King  Charles  the  First  01  blessed  memory  !  "  Here  the  preacher  wept,  and  then 
proceeded  to  abuse  the  opposers  of  this  royal  contender  for  absolute  prerogatives ;  as  abso- 
lute as  those  the  eastern  or  civil  law  potentates  claim ;  and  then,  to  make  and  apply  ob- 
servations and  inferences  to  the  persons  and  characters  of  the  present  times,  he  told  the 


156  THE  LIFE  OF 


began  his  tyranny,  by  dispensing  with  the  penal  statute  of 
25  Car.  II.  in  the  case  of  Sir  Edward  Hales  notwithstanding  the 
true  religion,  the  honour  of  Almighty  God,  the  safety  of  the 
government,  and  the  public  good  and  peace  of  the  nation  depend 
upon  this  act  of  25  Car.  II.,  and  Fourthly,  That  neighbour  princes 
or  states,  may  be  or  are  bound  by  law,  to  give  succours  to  the 
subjects  of  other  princes,  afflicted  for  the  cause  of  true  religion, 
or  oppressed  by  manifest  tyranny.  These  truths  are  finely 
proved  in  this  extraordinary  book.  The  excellent  author 
evinces,  that  justice  requires,  that  tyrants  and  destroyers  of 
the  commonwealth  be  compelled  to  reason.  Charity  challenges 
the  right  of  relieving  and  restoring  the  oppressed.  Those  that 
make  no  account  of  these  things,  do  as  much  as  in  them  lies  to 

Lord  Lieutenant,  and  the  House  of  Lords,  among  other  admirable  things,  that  "  they  should 


they,  the  said  lay 

then,  lay  lords,  how  you  act  for  the  future  against  the  spiritual  lords.  Maintain,  for  the  time 
to  come,  a  strict  and  inviolable  regard  to  the  rights,  privileges,  and  properties  of  the  spiritual 
lords." 

This  advice,  by  the  way,  appeared  to  me  very  singular,  and  I  think,  on  the  contrary,  that 
it  would  be  well  for  our  church,  if  our  bishops  were  obliged  to  leave  the  court,  the  parliament 
and  their  politics,  and  then  spend  their  lives  in  labouring  in  the  vineyard  of  Christ,  in  their 
several  dioceses.  What  have  priests  to  do  with  baronies  and  acts  of  state  ;  men  that  ought 
above  all  other  men  to  be  content  with  food  and  raiment,  and  to  withdraw  themselves  from 
the  world,  that  by  their  continued  conversation  with  God,  and  attention  only  to  the  sacred 
prescriptions  of  the  gospel,  they  might  appear  replenished  with  that  divine  power  and  virtue 
which  by  prayer,  and  all  the  exercises  of  piety  and  penitence,  they  had  implored  ;  and  by 
their  examples  and  instructions,  brighten  and  inflame  the  people  with  the  love  of  God,  and 
improve  the  good  in  goodness,  and  correct  and  reform  the  wicked.  This  would  be  acting 
like  bishops  indeed.  The  holiness  of  our  prelates  lives,  and  their  fervour  in  teaching  man- 
kind the  truths  of  Jesus  Christ  would  soon  advance  the  cause  of  their  master.  They  would 
bring  the  people  to  conform  to  the  will  of  the  Lord,  and  cause  the  learned  to  purify  the  de- 
filements of  genius  •  that  pride  and  vanity,  that  curiosity  and  self-love  which  are  incom- 
patible with  an  accomplished  purity  of  heart.  But  as  to  "  Charles  the  First,  of  blessed 
memory,"  certain  I  am,  that  whatever  Dean  Delany  may  think  of  him,  this  prince  did  really 
contend  for  the  cardinal  maxims  of  the  civil  law,  and  died,  not  for  true  religion,  as  this  doctor 
says,  but  to  advance  the  civil  laws  above  the  constitution  and  laws  of  Britain,  and  thereby 
acquire  an  absolute  dominion.  Quod  principi  placuit  legis  habet  vigorem.  It  appears  from 
matters  of  fact,  that  his  pleasure  was  to  be  the  law.  In  him  was  to  reside  the  sole  power 
of  imposing  taxes  on  the  people.  This  power,  and  other  powers  contrary  to  the  fundamental 
form  of  this  government ;  this  king  of  blessed  memory  assumed  and  challenged  as  rights 
under  the  name  of  his  undoubted  prerogatives,  and  grasped  the  pretence  so  hard,  as  never 
to  part  with  it,  till  he  wanted  strength  to  hold  it.  THIS  is  THE  MARTYR  !  ! !  His  reign  was 
a  provoking  violation  of  parliamentary  rights,  and  a  cruel  oppression  of  his  subjects. 

Instead  then  of  the  fine  laboured  reasons  offered  by  Dr.  Delany  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of 
Ireland,  to  account  for  the  way  of  Providence  in  the  tragical  death  of  this  king,  he  might 
have  said,  That  whereas  this  prince  had  departed  from  the  known  laws  of  the  land  to  an 
arbitrary  power,  and  not  only  the  pressures  and  sufferings  of  the  people,  under  this  method 
of  governing,  were  innumerable ;  but  the  fundamental  form  and  original  constitution  of 
Britain,  on  which  the  protestant  religion  and  the  liberty  of  Europe  depend ;  was  in  danger 
of  being  subverted,  and  for  ever  destroyed,  therefore  did  Providence  deliver  up  this  king  into 
the  hands  of  wicked  men,  who  had  usurped  the  administration  of  affairs  ;  that  the  mortifi- 
cation in  the  constitution  might  be  cured  by  the  death  of  this  destroying  prince ;  and  the 
violence  of  his  exit  remain  a  monument  in  terror  em  to  all  future  kings  of  England  ;  to  have 
a  care  how  they  offer  to  make  any  alteration  or  change  in  the  original  form  of  government ; 
for  violations  of  the  constitution  had  brought  Charles  the  First  to  the  block.  This  had  been 
a  reasonable  account  of  that  sad  affair.  It  is  supported  by  matters  of  fact. 

N.B.  The  contentions  between  his  Majesty  and  the  house  of  commons  began  about  the 
following  essential  points. 

i.  The  power  the  king  assumed,  and  challenged  as  a  right,  to  impose  taxes,  levy  monies, 
and  impose  duties  on  merchandizes,  without  a  previous  grant  thereof  in  parliament. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  157 

drive  piety,  justice,  and  charity  out  of  this  world  that  they  may 
never  more  be  heard  of. 

I  asked  one  of  these  gentlemen,  if  he  knew  who  was  the  author 
of  this  book  ;  for  it  was  ascribed  to  various  men.  He  told  me, 
that  the  learned  Hubert  Languet  was  the  reputed  author,  as  we 
find  in  De  la  Mare's  eulogium  upon  him  ;  but  De  la  Mare  was 
misinformed  by  Legoux.  The  great  Du  Plessis  *  was  the  author. 

2.  That  the  commons  were  obliged  to  observe  and  obey  the  king's  messages,  in  giving 
precedency  to  the  matter  of  supplies,  preferable  to  the  redress  of  grievances,  and  to  depend 
on  royal  promises  for  time  and  opportunity  to  dispatch  other  business. 

3.  That  the  commons  had  no  right  and  power  of  enquiring  into  the  demeanour  of  the 
king's  ministers  and  nearest  servants,  and  impeaching  them  for  misdemeanours. 

4.  That  the  king  could  in  his  courts  below,  take  cognizance  of,  and  censure  the  debates  of 
the  commons, 

5.  That  the  king  could,  by  warrants  signed  with  his  own  hand,  arrest  and  imprison  his 
subjects ;  and  especially  the  members  of  parliament,  for  what  they  said  and  did  in  parlia- 
ment. 

These  illegal  and  destructive  acts  of  power  King  Charles  I.  claimed  as  his  prerogatives, 
and  exercised  them  as  long  as  he  was  able,  with  great  rigour,  and  extraordinary  circum- 
stances ;  and  how  such  a  general  oppression,  and  rendering  the  two  estates  of  lords  and 
commons  of  no  signification,  can  make  the  memory  of  this  prince  blessed ;  or,  ho  w  his 
suffering  in  the  manner  he  did,  in  defence  of  such  absolute,  law-giving  power,  that  was  in- 
consistent with  the  constitution,  and  with  the  reasons  upon  which  it  is  founded,  can  render 
him  a  holy  and  blessed  martyr,  is  past  my  comprehension.  I  should  rather  choose  to  say, 
that  since  that  monarch  would  not  act  for  the  protection,  happiness,  and  safety  of  his  people, 
but  by  a  continued  exertion  of  sovereign  power,  endeavoured  to  oppress  and  ruin  them,  and 
change  the  form  of  government,  his  arbitrary  principles  brought  him  to  a  dismal  extremity. 
This,  as  before  observed,  is  the  truth  of  the  case.  May  his  death  be  a  warning  to  future 
English  kings  ;  that  they  may  govern  with  parliaments,  and  exert  their  powers  for  the  pro- 
tection, safety,  and  happiness  of  the  people. 

*  The  great  Du  Plessis  de  Mornay  was  born  on  the  sth  of  November,  1549.     He  wrote 
several  excellent  books,  and  one  that  is  invaluable,  en  the  Eucharist,  against  the  papists, 
which  was  published  in  1598.    This  book  produced  the  famous  conference  between  Du  Plessis 
Mornay  and  Cardinal  Perron,  at  Fontainbleau  in  the  year  1600.    The  victory  at  this  con- 
ference is  by  the  papists  ascribed  to  Perron  ;   but  the  protestants,  with  more  justice  affirm, 
that  Du  Plessis  was  victor  at  Fontainbleau.  Jacques  Davy  du  Perron,  bishop  of  Evreux,  pub- 
lished at  the  time,  a  book  on  this  conference,  in  which  he  gives  a  pretended  true  account  of  it, 
and  illustrates  and  defends  his  cause  :  but  to  this  the  great  Mornay  replied,  and  made  a  poor 
devil  of  Perron.     See  those  pieces,  reader,  and  you  will  be  finely  entertained ;   for,  Perron, 
though  a  papist,  was  a  great  man.     Du  Plessis  died  at  his  barony  La  Foret  in  Poictou,  Nov. 
13,  1623,  aged  74  ;  having  retired  to  his  country  seat  after  Louis  XIII.  had  taken  from  him 
the  government  of  Saumur. 

Cardinal  Du  Perron,  born  Nov.  25,  1556,  was  trained  up  in  the  reformed  religion  with  great 
care  ;  but  went  off  to  popery  on  the  preferments  offered  him  by  Henry  III.  As,  on  the  con- 
trary, Du  Plessis  Mornay  had  been  educated  a  papist,  but  became  a  protestant,  to  the  loss 
of  the  greatest  preferments. — It  was  Du  Perron  that  converted  to  popery  the  famous  Henry 
Sponde,  bishop  of  Farmers,  and  abridger  of  the  A  nnals  of  Baronius,  dedicated  to  Perron ; 
and,  in  conjuction  with  Cardinal  D'Ossat,  he  made  a  papist  of  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France. 
It  was  owing  to  the  management  of  this  Cardinal  de  St.  Agnes,  in  the  conclave,  and  to 
D'Ossat,  that  that  wicked  fellow,  Paul  V.*  was  created  pope  and  Cardinal  Baronius  lost 
the  popedom.  Bellarming  however  who  was  likewise  one  of  the  fifty-nine  cardinals  in  that 
conclave,  might  have  had  it,  but  he  refused  it.  Those  things  we  find  in  the  Lettres  de  Guy 
Putin,  Vol.  I.  in  Godeau  Melanges,  critiques  apud  Antillion,  and  in  the  Histoire  des  Con- 
claves. Cardinal  Du  Perron,  died  at  Paris,  in  1618,  aged  63. 

Leo  XI.  who  reigned  but  twenty-five  days,  died  in  the  fifty-third  year  of  his  age,  in  1605  ; 
was  succeeded  by  Paul  Borghese  alias  Paul  V.,  who  died  28th  of  Jan,  1621  ;  aged  68  ;  having 
for  his  successor  Ludovisio,  called  Gregory  XV. 

D'Ossat  was  born  Aug.  23,  1536.  His  five  volumes  of  Letters  are  a  master  piece,  in  politics, 
and  next  to  Father  Paul's  History  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  are  the  best  books  you  can  look 
into,  reader,  for  an  exact  and  full  description  of  the  artifices  of  the  Court  of  Rome.  Remark- 
able was  the  saying  of  this  Cardinal,  when  Henry  IV.  of  France  was  stabbed  :  "  If  there  was 

*  So  Marbais,  a  doctor  of  divinity,  who  knew  this  pope  well,  assures  us,  vid.  Requeste  a 
Empereur, 


i$8  THE  LIFE  OF 


D'Aubigne,*  whose  word  is  sterling,  affirms  it.  See  here,  said 
Mr.  Seymour,  the  second  volume  of  D'Aubigne's  History,  book  ii. 
ch.  ii.  p.  108,  "  il  paroissoit  un  autre  livre  qui  s'appelloit  Junius, 

the  least  pretext  for  such  assassinations,  they  ought  to  be  contrived  and  executed  by  the 
heretics,  whom  the  king  separated  from  and  abandoned,  and  thereby  gave  them  reason 
to  be  afraid  of  him  ;  but  they  never  made  the  least  attempt  of  this  kind,  neither  against  him, 
nor  the  five  kings  his  predecessors,  though  their  majesties  made  the  most  cruel  butcheries 
of  the  Huguenots."  D'Ossat  died  at  Rome :  March  13,  1604,  in  the  sixty-seventh  year  of 
his  age. 

Baronius  was  born  Oct.  30,  1538.  His  Ecclesiastical  Annals  in  twelve  volumes,  folio, 
containing  the  history  of  the  church  for  twelve  centuries,  ending  at  the  year  1198,  have  been 
well  called  the  twelve  labours  of  the  Roman  Hercules.  It  is  a  prodigious  work.  The  reading, 
the  erudition,  the  judgment,  the  order,  and  method  of  the  author,  are  amazing  ;  but  an  un- 
happy prejudice  for  papal  rights,  and  Romish  pieties,  attaches  him  continually  to  the  Roman 
cause,  without  the  least  regard  to  truth,  and  makes  it  plain,  that  he  was  not  as  he  affirms, 
assisted  from  above  in  this  work.  The  most  judicious  of  the  Roman  Catholic  writers  say 
"  II  seroit  a  souhaiter  qu'il  eut  etc  exempt  des  preventions  que  son  education  et  son  pals  lui 
avoient  inspirees."  Isaac  Casaubon,  in  his  fine  Exer citations,  says  with  much  justice  of  this 
great  man  ;  "  qui  denique  merita  sua  in  ecclesiam,  si  immoderate  partium  studio  non  cor- 
rupisset,  dignus  erat  sine  controversia,  cui  omnes  et  veteres  et  recentiores,  qui  illam  eruditionis 
partem  attigerunt,  assurgerent,  et  fasces  submitterent.  Sed  yir  eruditissimus  quando  a 
scriptionem  se  accingebat,  de  approbanda  fide  sua  ex  aequp  omnibus,  sicuti  par  erat  fidelem 
histpricum,  adeo  nihil  cogitavit ;  ut  contra,  id  summo  studio  videaturegisse  ne.qui  in  negotio 
religionis  alia  sequebantur  castra  ullum  usquam  aequitatis  vestigium  in  suis  scriptis  reperirent 
Adeo  in  defensione  illarum  partium  quas  probabat,  totus  est  ubique  historiam  professus, 
non  solum  theologum,  sed  etiam  persaepe  disputatorem  e  schola  agit,  locos  communes  ad 
narratione  historica  digrediens,  saepissime  contexit ;  Protestantes  passim  nullo  discrimine, 
convitiis,  maledictis  et  infandis  calumniis  incessit.  Jura  principum,  quae  a  paucis  seculis 
obtentu  religionis  imminui  ceperunt,  ita  cupide,  quoties  datur  occasio,  contrahit,  arrodit, 
«veritit,  ut  natum  in  regnp  noscere  nequeas  ;  educatum,  altum  et  auctum  Roma  facile  agnos- 
cas.  Denique  ita  se  gessit  Baronius  totis  12  suprum  annalium  tomis,  ut  qui  dubitari  nollet, 
praecipium  sibi  scopum  fussie,  papalem  monarchiam  stabilire,  amplificare,  et  ad  ccelum  usque 
svehere."  This  is  a  just  character  of  the  Annals  of  Baronius.  The  best  edition  of  this  work, 
is  the  English  translation  of  it  by  Hall  a  doctor  of  the  Sorbonne.  It  is  not  only  preferable 
to  the  French,  Italian,  and  every  other  translation,  but  far  better  than  the  original  Latin,  on 
account  of  Hall's  corrections,  and  most  learned  notes  and  dissertations. 

Baronius  in  writing  his  Annals  ascribes  the  guidance  and  success  of  his  pen,  to  the  favour 
of  the  most  holy  Mary,  the  mother  of  God.  "  To  her  whom  I  acknowledge  the  whole 
to  be  received,  I  offer  these  A  nnals,  &c.  To  her  by  whom  the  whole  of  this  gift  comes  to  us 
from  God,  to  the  most  holy  Virgin,  the  most  safe  ark  in  which  our  labours  may  be  kept,  and 
in  safe  custody  protected,  we  offer  these  A  nnals,  that  she  may  sanctify  them  with  her  blessing. 
For  the  entireness  of  his  net,  after  his  having  cast  it  so  often,  and  the  continuance  of  his 
strength  fresh  and  green  in  his  old  age  ;  all  was  from  the  grace  of  Abisag,  their  shunamite 
cherishing  his  aged  bones ;  the  most  holy  and  pure  virgin  favouring  the  work  begun,  and 
taking  care  of,  and  happily  promoting  all  his  affairs."  What  must  a  true  Christian  say  to 
this? 

Many  are  the  abridgements  of  the  Annals  ;  but  the  best  is  that  of  Henry  Sponde,  the 
apostate,  aforementioned.  Baronius  died  Jan.  30,  1607,  aged  68. 

After  all,  the  Centuries  of  Magdebourg,  which  were  published  in  1559  and  1560,  are  the 
most  valuable  body  of  ecclesiastical  history.  Baronius,  who  pretended  to  answer  them  by 
his  Annals,  is  undoubtedly  the  finest  writer;  but  the  ministers,  Matthias  Flaccius,  Jean 
Vigand,  Matthew  le  Judin,  Basil  Faber,  Nicholas  Callus,  and  Andrew  Corvin,  are  the  learned 


*  Theodore  Agrippa  D'Aubign6,  the  favourite  of  Henry  IV.,  was  born  in  the  year  1550, 
and  died  1631,  aged  80.  He  wrote  several  curious  things  ;  but  his  great  and  principal  work 
is  his  Universal  History,  containingjthe  transactions  from  1550  to  1601,  in  three  folio  volumes. 
This  is  a  very  extraordinary  history,  and  contains  many  curious  relations  that  are  nowhere 
else  to  be  found.  He  was  obliged  to  leave  France  on  account  of  this  history  and  died 
at  Geneva.  His  two  satires,  called  La  Confession  de  Sancy  and  Les  Aventures  du  Baron  de 
Fceneste,  are  fine  things.  Du  Chat's  edition  of  the  latter,  which  is  really  a  very  curious 
thing,  is  well  worth  reading.  The  best  edition  is  that  printed  at  Cologne  in  1729,  in  two 
small  volumes  12010. 

[The  life  of  this  extraordinary  man,  was  written  with  much  elegance  and  perspicuity,  by 
Mrs.  Sarah  Scott,  and  printed  in  1772,  in  one  volume,  8vo.  ED.] 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  159 

ou  Defense  centre  les  Tyrans,  fait  par  M.  Du  Plessis,  renomme 
pour  plusieurs  excellens  livres."  And  again  D'Aubigne  says 
that  "  M.  Du  Plessis  lui  a  avoue  qu'il  en  estoit  1'auteur,"  ib. 
bookii.  ch.  15,  p.  91. 

Another  extraordinary  book  I  saw  in  this  library,  was  the 
famous  piece  de  Libertate  Ecclesiastica,  written  against  the  papal 
usurpations,  at  the  time  his  holiness  Camille  Borghese,  commonly 
called  Paul  V.,  had  the  memorable  contest  with  the  Venetians  ; 
and  upon  enquiring,  who  was  the  author  of  this  scarce  and 
valuable  book  ;  which  is  even  superior  to  Father  Paul's  book 
upon  the  same  subject  in  defence  of  the  liberties  of  mankind  ; 
Mr.  Trenchard  the  president  of  the  society,  showed  me  Cappel's 

men  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  the  noblest  collection  of  historical  truths  in  ecclesiastical 
affairs,  that  ever  appeared  in  the  world.  They  are  honest  writers  indeed.  Every  page  of 
their  work  discovers  a  zeal  for  truth,  and  the  glory  of  Christ ;  while  Baronius  sadly  labours 
for  a  pontifex  maximus,  and  the  cheats  of  Rome.  The  work  of  the  centuriators  extends 
to  the  thirteenth  century,  and  every  century  contains  sixteen  chapters  :  the  first  is  a  sum- 
mary of  the  things  to  be  recited  ;  then  the  second  treats  of  the  place  and  extent  of  the  church  ; 
the  third,  of  persecution  and  peace  ;  the  fourth,  of  doctrine  ;  the  fifth  of  heresies  ;  the  sixth, 
of  ceremonies  and  rites  ;  the  seventh,  of  policy  and  government ;  the  eighth,  of  schism  ;  the 
ninth,  of  synods ;  the  tenth,  of  bishops ;  the  eleventh,  of  heretics  ;  the  twelfth,  of  martyrs  ; 
the  thirteenth,  of  miracles  ;  the  fourteenth,  of  the  J  ews  ;  the  fifteenth,  of  religions  separated 
from  the  church  ;  and  the  sixteenth,  of  broils  and  political  changes.  In  this  clear  and  distinct 
manner  are  the  things  of  every  age  treated. 

Bellarmine,  born  the  4th  of  October,  1542,  was  a  man  of  great  learning  in  the  works  of  the 
fathers,  councils,  canon-law,  and  church  history ;  and  wrote  several  laboured  things ;  but 
his  chief  performance  is  his  body  of  Controversy,  in  four  volumes  folio  ;  which  the  catholics 
think  very  fine  :  They  shew,  indeed,  great  reading  ;  but,  ignorance  of  the  sense  of  scripture, 
and  are  quite  void  of  argument.  There  is  not  one  article  of  popery  tolerably  well  defended 
in  the  four  volumes.  Every  exposition  and  vindication  is  senseless  and  ridiculous.  He  died 
Sept.  I7th  1621,  aged  79. 

Isaac  Casaubon,  who  wrote  the  Exercitations  on  Baronius ;  was  born  Feb.  18,  1559,  died 
in  1614,  in  the  55th  year  of  his  age  and  was  interred  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

Besides  his  Exercitations,  he  published  several  learned  works  and  animadversions 
commentaries  on  Persius,  Polybius,  Athenaeus,  Strabo,  Suetonius,  and  Diogenes  Laertius. 
It  was  he,  having  purchased  the  MS.  at  a  great  price,  first  published  in  Greek,  Polyaenus' 
Stratagems  of  the  Antients  in  War,  in  the  year  1589  ;  but  the  Latin  version  added  to  it,  was 
done  by  Justus  Vulteus ;  and  we  have  since  had  a  more  correct  edition  of  Polyaanus,  by 
Pancratius,  in  the  year  1690.  The  Epistoke  Casauboni  are  likewise  valuable  things  ;  but  of 
most  merit  are  his  Exercitations,  and  his  Persius. His  Commentary  on  Persius  is  admirable, 
not  only  for  a  just  explication  of  his  incomparable  author,  but  for  much  fine  classical  learning 
which  he  has  scattered  through  it ;  and  for  his  Exercitations  against  Baronius,  the  friend 
of  truth  must  be  for  ever  charmed  with  them.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  we  have  but  sixteen 
of  them.  They  go  no  farther  than  to  the  thirty- fourth  year  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  relate  princi- 
pally to  Barpnius's  bad  explication  of  scripture. 

Two  Jesuits,  Boullenger  and  Jean  L'Heureux,  wrote  against  the  Exercitations  ;  but  the 
defence  of  Baronius  by  Endemen  Jean,  the  name  L'Heureux  went  by,  is  very  weak,  as  you 
will  soon  see,  reader,  on  turning  him  over.  And  as  to  Julius  Caesar  Boullenger,  the  other 
monk,  when  you  have  read  his  Dissertation  against  Casaubon,  and  Bishop  Montague's 
Animadversions  on  that  dissertation,  you  will  perceive  he  was  a  poor  creature. 

It  is  remarkable, that  Isaac  Casaubon's  two  sons  Henry  and  Meric,  both  went  off  to  popery, 
and  died  in  France,  apostate  priests  in  the  Romish  church  ;  though  their  father  had  fled  from 
that  country  for  the  sake  of  the  protestant  religion,  and  was  one  of  the  best  defenders  of  the 
reformed  faith.  He  was  one  of  the  judges  at  the  famous  conference  between  Du  Plessis  and 
Perron :  and,  by  the  way,  I  think  it  equally  remarkable,  that  the  grandson  of  the  great 
primate  Usher,  and  the  only  remaining  person  of  the  archbishop's  family,  should  be  the 
most  violent  papist  I  ever  saw.  I  knew  the  man  in  Dublin,  and  never  heard  so  outrageous 
a  catholic  as  he  was.  He  said,  to  my  astonishment,  that  "  his  grandfather  was  a  great  light 
but  burn'd  with  his  head  downwards  in  this  world,  till  he  drop'd  into  hell  in  the  next." 

As  to  the  conference  between  Du  Plessis  and  Perron,  about  the  Eucharist  and  other  matters, 
besides  the  two  pieces  I  have  mentioned,  to  wit,  Perron's  account  of  it,  and  Mornay's  answer 


160  THE  LIFE  OF 


Assertion  of  the  True  Faith  against  Rosweim  the  Jesuit.  And  in 
the  following  passage.  "  In  ecclesiastica,  antiquitate  quam  non 
esset  Tyro  Casaubonus,  docuit  A.D.  1607.  libro  singular!  de 
libertate  ecclesiastica,  cujus  jam  paginae  264.  typis  erant  editae, 
cum  rex  Henricus  IV.  Compositis  jam  Venetorumcum  pontifice 
Romano  controversiis,  vetuit  ultra  progredi,  et  hoc  ipsum  quod 
fuerat  inchoatum  supprimi  voluit,  ut  ejus  pauca  nunc  extent 
exemplaria,"  p.  17.  And  in  the  same  book,  I  saw  some  manu- 
script references  to  Casaubon's  Lettres,  p.  628,  632,  and  647,  and 
to  one  place  in  Scaliger's  Letters,  edit,  1627,  p.  345 .  Several  places 
I  turned  to,  and  saw  that  Casaubon  hinted  to  his  friends,  that 
he  was  the  author  of  the  book  de  Ecclesiastica  Antiquitate. 
Scaliger  *  affirms  it.  The  words  "  Vetuit  ultra  progredi,  et  hoc 

to  the  account,  you  will  find  a  good  relation  of  it  in  the  Histoire  de  I' Edit  de  Nantes,  torn  i. 
p.  343,  et  suivante  ;  and  see  further  on  this  article  Sully's  Memoirs. 

The  ingenious  and  excellent  Miss  Mornay,  of  Shelford  Park,  is  descended  from  the  great 
Phillip  Mornay  Du  Plessis,  and  the  last  of  the  house  of  Du  Plessis  now  [1756]  living.  Her 
grandfather,  Jacques  de  Mornay,  was  great  grandson  to  Du  Plessis  Mornay,  and  came  over 
to  England  on  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  in  the  year  1685,  when  Lewis  XIV,  with 
the  same  hand  that  signed  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes,  granted  to  the  reformed 
religion,  by  Henry  IV.,  in  1598,  in  the  ninth  year  of  his  reign ;  likewise  signed  an  order 
for  eighty  thousand  merciless  dragoons  and  other  troops,  to  march  against  his  protestant 
subjects  and  force  them  by  plundering  and  torturing,  to  turn  papists. 

I  say  with  the  same  hand,  because  the  twelfth  article  of  the  edict  signed  by  this  cruel 
and  perfidious  prince  in  the  forty-third  year  of  his  reign,  is  as  follows :  "  And  furthermore 
Those  of  the  said  pretended  reformed  religion,  till  such  time  as  it  shall  please  God  to  illuminate 
them  may  abide  in  the  towns,  and  places  of  pur  kingdom,  countries  and  lands  of  our  dominion 
and  continue  their  traffic,  and  enjoy  their  goods,  without  being  molested  or  hindered  on 
account  of  the  said  pretended  reformed  religion,  provided  they  do  not  assemble  to  exercise 
it,  &c."  This  was  a  monstrous  cheat  and  highly  perfidious  to  deceive  and  ensnare  his  poor 
subjects.  Something  might  be  said  for  the  edict  of  revocation,  if  Lewis  had  declared,  that 
to  quell  the  agitations  of  his  conscience  he  must  revoke  the  edict  of  Nantes,  though  he  had 
sworn  to  the  observation  of  it ;  and  that  he  allowed  a  certain  time  to  his  protestants  subjects, 
after  which  they  must  either  turn  catholics,  or  quit  the  kingdom,  with  their  families  and 
effects,  or  else  they  should  be  exposed  to  such  and  such  treatment.  This  had  been  plain 
and  honest  dealing,  though  an  arbitrary  proceeding :  but  to  give  it  under  his  hand  to  his 
subjects,  that  they  "  might  stay  and  continue  their  traffic,  enjoy  their  goods  without  being 
molested  or  hindered  on  account  of  their  religion,"  and  at  the  same  time  leave  them  to  the 
mercy  of  the  dragoons  ;  Was  not  this  an  heinous  act  ?  "  Had  he  been  guilty  of  this  single 
one  only,'  says  Laval,  in  the  sixth  volume  of  his  excellent  History  of  the  Reformation  in 
France,  "  it  would  have  imprinted  such  a  spot  on  his  reputation,  that  all  the  waters  of  the 
Seine  were  not  sufficient  to  wash  it  away." 

*  Joseph  Scaliger,  born  Aug.  4, 1544,  died  in  the  6sth  year  of  his  age,  at  Leyden,  Jan,  21, 
1600.     His  father,  Julius  Caesar  Scaliger,  died  in  the  75th  year  of  his  age,  October  21,  1558. 
'    The  father  was  a  papist,  the  son  a  protestant ;  were  both  great  men  in  the  republic  of  letters 
and  both  wrote  many  books,  but  the  son  was  by  far  the  greatest  man. 

What  I  like  best  of  the  father's  works,  are  his  Poetics.  His  Account  of  the  Latin  Tongue, 
and  his  Exercitations  against  Cardan.  These  are  fine  pieces.  His  Problems  on  A  ulus  Gellius 
are  also  excellent. 

The  works  of  Joseph  the  son,  are  as  follows, — CommentarU  in  Appendicem  Virgilii.  Notae 
In  librum  Varroni  de  Re  Rustica.  Conjectures  in  Varronem  de  Lingua  Latina.  Castigationes 
in  Valerium  Flaccum.  Notes  in  Tertullianum  de  Pallio,  cum  Tractatus  de  Equinoctiis.  Loci 
cujusdam  Galeni  Difficillimi  Explicatio.  Elenchus  Tribaresii  Nicolai  Serarii.  Confuiatio 
ejusdem  Serarii  Animadversorum  in  Scaligerum.  Castigationes  et  Notes  in  Eusebii  Chronica. 
Thesaurus  Temporum.  Elenchus  utriusque  Orationis  Chronologices  Davidis  Parcei.  Con- 
jectanea  de  Nonni  Dionystaticis.  Notes  in  Opera  Ausonii.  Emendatio  Temporum.  Veierum 
Grescorum  Fragmenta.  Cyclometrica  Elementa  duo.  Appendix  ad  Cyclometriam  suam. 
Ausoniarum  Lectionum  libri  duo.  Emendationes  ad  Theocriti,  &c.  Idyllia.  Notes  in  Hip- 
pocratem.  Notes  et  Castigationes,  in  Tibullum,  Catullum,  Propertium.  Epistolarum  Volumen. 
CommentarU  in  Manilium.  Animadversiones  in  Mekhioris  Guttlandini  Commentarium  in 
Tria  Plinii  de  Papyro  Capita.  Epistola  adversus  Barbarum  et  Indocium  Poema  Patroni 
Clientts  Lucani.  Diatrtba  de  Dectmis  in  Lege  Dei.  Notitia  Gallic.  Diatriba  de  Europaorum 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  161 

ipsum  quod  fuerat  inchoatum  supprimi  voluit,"  accounts  for  its 
being  published  imperfect ;  which  all  that  see  it  wonder  at. 

Many  other  extraordinary  books  and  manuscripts  I  saw  in 
this  library,  and  a  great  number  of  fine  curiosities  ;  but  I  can 
only  mention  one  particular  more.  Engraven  on  a  beautiful 
cornelian  I  saw  the  Roman  god  of  bounds,  with  these  words, 
"  Concedo  Nulli,"  and  one  of  the  gentlemen  asked  me,  what  I 
supposed  the  meaning  of  this  design  ?  The  emblem,  I  answered, 
was  a  very  just  one,  and  in  my  opinion  meant,  that  truth  must 
never  be  given  up.  That,  it  was  replied,  was  not  the  meaning 
of  it,  though  my  thought  was  not  unjust.  The  design  is  to  put 
one  in  mind  of  death,  of  which  terminus  is  the  most  just  emblem  ; 
and  he  says,  "  Concedo  Nulli,"  I  favour  none,  I  suffer  none  to  pass 
the  limit.  "There  is,"  continued  the  gentleman,  "a  little  curious 
history  depends  on  this.  Here  is  a  gold  medallion,  on  one  side 
of  which  you  see  the  image  of  the  great  Erasmus,  and  on  the 
other  this  fancy  ;  which  he  always  wore  in  a  ring,  and  from 
thence  I  had  the  medallion  struck.  Erasmus  asked  the  famous 
Carvajal  the  Spanish  cordelier,  just  as  I  did  you,  what  the  meaning 
of  this  ring  was.  Carvajal,  who  had  had  some  contests  with 
Erasmus  and  hated  him  greatly,  said  '  it  owed  its  being  without 
all  peradventure,  to  the  pride  of  Erasmus,  and  meant,  that  he 
would  never  yield,  right  or  wrong,  to  any  one  in  the  republic  of 
letters.'  Erasmus  answered,  that  '  his  explication  was  quite 
wrong,  and  that  on  the  contrary,  he  used  the  device,  to  kill  his 
pride,  and  put  him  in  mind  of  death,  which  suffers  not  the  greatest 
men  to  pass  the  short  limit  of  time  allotted  them.'  This  pleased 
me  much,  and  I  resolved  to  get  the  fancy  on  a  cornelian  for  a 
seal." 

Linguis,  &-C.  Judicium  de  quadam  Thesi  Chronologica.  Expositio  Numismatis  Ar genii 
Constantini  Imperatoris.  Orphei  P octet  Hymni  Sacri  Versibus  Antiquis  Latine  Expressi 
Martials  Select  Epigram.  Versiones  Greece.  Sophoclis  Ajax  Characters  Vetere  Conyersus. 
In  JEschyli  Prometheum  Prologus.  Animadversiones  in  Epigrammata,  6-c.  Cornelii  Galli. 
Animadversiones  in  Cyclopem  Euripidis.  Dionysius  Cato  cum  Notts.  De  Equinoctiorum 
Anticipation  Diatriba.  Varia  Poemata  Latino,.  Poemata  Grezca  versa  ex  Latino.  6-c.  Notce 
in  Panegyricum  ad  Pisones.  Castigatio  Kalendarii  Gregoriani.  Interpretatio  Proverbioru- 
Arabicorum  cum  Schpliis.  De  Arte  Critica  Diatriba.  Notes  in  Novum  Tesiamentum.  Hyppo- 
liti  Canon  Paschalis,  cum  Commentariis .  De  Re  Nummaria  Dissertatio.  Discours  de  la 
Jonction  des  Mers,  &c.  Discours  sur  Milice  Romaine.  Lettres  touchant  I' Explication  d 
quelques  Medailles.  Prcetio  in  Origines  Linguce  Latince.  Scaligerana.  Epistola  in  Fabrium 
Paulinum.  A  nimadversiones  in  Locos  Controvcrsos  Roberti  Titii.  Vita  Julii  Cesaris  Scaligeri 
cum  Epistola  de  Vetustate  et  Splendore  Gentis  Scaligera. 

These  are  the  works  of  Joseph  Scaliger,  and  in  them  one  meets  with  so  various  and  fine 
an  erudition,  and  so  much  valuable  criticism,  that  if  the  reader  of  fortune  will  take  my  advice 
he  will  get  them  all  into  his  closet  as  soon  as  possible  ;  and  at  the  same  time,  the  four  ex- 
cellent pieces  I  have  mentioned  of  Julius  Cassar  Scaliger,  the  father  of  Joseph. 

The  great  Louis  Cappel  author  of  the  Assertion  of  the  True  Faith,  was  a  protestant  minister 
at  Saumur.  He  was  born  October  14,  1583,  and  died  at  Saumur,  the  i6th  of  June,  1658, 
aged  75.  He  was  likewise  the  author  of  that  excellent  book  called,  Arcanum  Punctuationis 
Revelaium  ;  and  of  another  very  valuable  work,  intitled  Critica  Sacra.  His  son,  Jean  Cappel, 
turned  papist,  and  died  a  despicable  apostate  in  the  Romish  church. 

There  were  two  other  Cappels,  protestant  ministers  ;  both  Jacques,  one  who  died  in  1583 
the  other  in  1624,  who  were  both  authors  of  several  controversial  pieces  against  popery.  They 
were  however  weak  writers,  when  compared  with  the  learned  Louis  Cappel. 


1 62  THE  LIFE  OF 


Another  extraordinary  thing  these  gentlemen  showed  me  was 
a  hole  leading  to  some  wonderful  caverns  in  the  side  of  a  mountain, 
about  a  mile  to  the  north  of  their  house.  It  resembles  at  the 
entrance,  Penpark-hole,  in  Gloucestershire,*  within  three  miles 
of  Bristol ;  but  with  this  difference,  that  Penpark-hole  was  once  a 
lead  ore  pit,  and  one  is  let  down  by  ropes  through  two  tunnels 
to  the  chamber  ;  whereas  the  entrance  of  the  place  I  am  speaking 
of  is  the  work  of  nature,  a  steep  and  narrow  descent  of  twenty- 
three  yards,  which  I  went  down  by  having  a  rope  under  my  arm 
and  setting  my  hands  and  feet  against  the  sides  of  the  passage, 
till  I  came  to  a  flat  rough  rock,  which  opened  two  yards  and  a  half 
one  way,  and  four  yards  the  other  way.  This  little  cavern  was 
two  yards  high.  We  went  from  it  into  a  more  easy  sloping  way, 
which  brought  us  downward  for  thirteen  yards,  till  we  came  to 
another  cavern,  that  was  six  yards  long,  and  four  and  a  half 
broad.  Here  we  found  a  perpendicular  tunnel,  two  yards  wide, 
and  sixty-seven  yards  deep  ;  but  where  it  went  to,  and  what 

*  In  Penpark-hole  you  are  let  down  by  ropes  fixed  at  the  top  of  the  pit,  four  fathom  per- 
pendicular, and  then  descend  three  fathoms  more,  in  an  oblique  way,  between  two  rocks, 
which  brings  you  in  a  perpendicular  tunnel,  thirty-nine  yards  down,  into  which  you  descend 
by  ropes,  and  land  in  a  spacious  chamber,  that  is  seventy-live  yards  in  length,  forty-one  in 
breadth,  and  nineteen  yards  high,  from  the  margin  of  a  great  water,  at  the  north  end  of  it, 
to  the  roof.  This  water  is  twenty-seven  yards  in  length,  twelve  in  breadth,  and  generally 
sixteen  deep.  It  is  sweet,  bright,  and  good  drink.  It  rises  sometimes  several  feet,  and  at 
other  times  sinks  two  feet  below  its  usual  depth.  The  torches  always  burn  clear  in  this 
chamber,  nor  is  the  air  in  the  least  offensive,  though  fifty-nine  yards  from  the  surface  of  the 
earth,  and  separated  from  the  day  by  such  deep  tunnels,  and  an  oblique  descent  between 
them.  The  great  tunnel  is  about  three  yards  wide,  and  in  the  south  side  of  it  thirty  yards 
down,  nine  yards  before  you  come  to  the  opening  of  the  chamber,  or  cavity  below,  is  a  passage 
thirty-two  yards  in  length,  three  and  a  half  high,  and  three  yards  broad.  It  is  the  habitation 
of  bats,  and  towards  the  end  of  it,  a  sloping  hole  goes  to  some  other  place.  This  passage, 
and  the  tunnels,  and  the  chamber  below,  are  all  irregular  work. 

Penpark-hole  has  long  been  an  object  of  curiosity,  and  induced  many  to  leave  "  the  roddie 
lemes  of  daie,"  to  explore  its  terrific  and  gloomy  subterranean  caverns.  The  descent  of 
Captain  Sturmy  in  1669,  and  of  Captain  Collins  in  September  1682,  are  on  record  ;  but  few 
later  visitors  of  such  scenes,  so  dismal  and  dreary  as  are  rarely  to  be  paralleled  and,  of  which 
the  most  fervid  imagination  can  form  at  best  an  inefficient  and  faint  idea,  have  published 
any  descriptive  account.  Mr.  George  Symes  Catcott,  who  more  than  once  gratified  his 
curiosity  in  attempting  further  discoveries  in  those  '  regions  of  horror  and  doleful  shades  '  ; 
on  a  visit  to  this  place  on  Easter  Monday,  April  1 7,  though  the  year  is  not  mentioned,  describes 
the  chamber  noticed  in  the  preceding  note  as  about  ninety  feet  long,  and  fifty- two  broad,  with 
a  hard  rocky  vaulted  roof,  about  thirty  feet  above  the  water  ;  but  when  the  water  is  at  the 
lowest,  it  is  supposed  to  be  at  least  about  ninety  feet,  so  that  even  with  the  assistance  of 
torches  the  summit  cannot  be  distinctly  seen.  The  roof  appears  to  be  of  nearly  an  equal 
height  in  every  part ;  and  very  much  resembles  the  ceiling  of  a  Gothic  cathedral.  This 
place  is  rendered  awful  by  the  great  reverberation  which  attends  the  voice  when  speaking 
loud,  and  still  more  so  by  the  pendent  rocks  which  sometimes  break  in  very  large  pieces 
from  overhead  and  the  sides,  riveting  forcibly  on  the  mind  the  most  horrific  tremor  and 
dreadful  apprehensions  of  personal  danger.  The  water,  agreeably  to  the  preceding  descrip- 
tion, is  stated  by  Mr.  Catcott,  to  be  in  many  places  seven  or  eight  fathoms  deep,  but  "  in 
August  1762,  it  was  found  not  more  than  one  fathom."  In  conclusion  of  the  notice  of  this 
dreadful  chasm,  the  melancholy  circumstance  of  the  poor  traveller  being  thrown  headlong 
by  the  villains  who  had  robbed  him,  into  Eldine-hole,  near  Derby  may  recur  to  the  reader, 
when  he  is  told  that  on  the  i7th  of  March,  1775,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Newnam,  fell  by  accident  into 
this  tremendous  cavern,  and  was  no  more  seen.  Public  curiosity  was  excited,  and  for  some 
weeks  a  vast  concourse  of  persons  were  brought  together  daily,  to  visit  this  ill-boding  and 
gloomy  spot.  Some  few  persons  summoned  sufficient  fortitude  to  descend  into  and  explore 
the  yawning  gulph,  and  the  result  of  these  inquiries  were  communicated  by  Mr.  Catcott, 
to  an  excellent,  but  long  since  discontinued  work,  the  Literary  Magazine,  March  i793i  PP- 
206-9.  En. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  163 

caused  the  noise  below,  the  gentlemen  who  came  thus  far  with 
me,  could  not  tell ;  for  they  had  never  ventured  into  it,  nor  could 
they  persuade  any  of  their  people  to  be  let  down  to  the  bottom 
though  they  had  found  by  the  lead  that  there  was  hard  ground 
below.  "  I  will  then,"  I  said,  "  explore  this  subterranean  realm, 
if  you  will  let  me  and  my  lad  down,  with  proper  conveniences 
for  an  enquiry  of  the  kind,  and  I  dare  say  I  will  give  you  a  good 
account  of  the  region  below."  "This,"  they  answered,  "was 
not  safe  for  me  to  do.  I  might  perish  many  ways.  The  damps 
and  vapours  might  kill  me  at  once  ;  or  my  lights  by  them  might 
be  put  out,  or  kindle  the  vapour  of  the  place  below."  "  But  to 
this,  I  said  that  I  was  sure  the  noise  we  heard  at  the  bottom  was 
some  running  water,  and  wherever  that  was  in  the  caverns  of  the 
earth,  the  air  must  be  pure  and  good.  So  Mr.  Boyle  says  in  his 
General  History  of  the  Air,  and  so  I  have  often  found  it  in  my 
descents  to  the  deepest  mines."  "  As  you  please  then,"  the 
gentlemen  replied,"  you  shall  have  everything  you  can  desire, 
and  be  let  down  very  safely,  however  you  may  fare  when  you 
get  to  the  ground  :  and  when  you  want  to  come  up,  pull  the 
packthread  you  have  in  your  hand,  that  will  be  tied  to  a  bell  at 
the  top  of  the  tunnel,  and  you  shall  be  immediately  drawn  up 
again."  These  things  being  agreed  they  let  me  down  in  a  proper 
basket  the  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  with  a  lighted  torch 
in  my  hand,  and  soon  after,  my  man  Ralph  followed  with  every- 
thing I  had  required.  I  was  more  than  half  an  hour  going  down, 
for  the  rope  was  given  like  a  jack  line  from  the  engine  it  came 
from.  I  saw  several  dismal  lateral  holes  by  the  way  ;  but  no 
mischief  or  inconvenience  did  I  meet  with  in  my  passage  to  the 
ground. 

When  I  came  to  the  bottom,  I  found  I  was  in  a  chamber  of  a 
great  extent,  and  though  a  hundred  and  three  yards  from  the 
day,  breathed  as  free  as  if  I  had  been  above  ground.  A  little 
river  made  a  noise  in  its  fall  from  a  high  rock,  within  four  yards 
of  the  spot  I  landed  on,  and  ran  with  impetuosity  in  a  rough 
channel  I  knew  not  where.  The  water  was  not  deep,  as  we  found 
with  our  poles,  and  but  three  yards  broad,  and  therefore  we 
crossed  it,  at  a  hundred  yards  from  the  fall,  to  get  into  a  cavern 
that  had  an  arched  entrance,  on  the  other  side,  within  two  yards 
of  the  stream.  Our  course  to  the  crossing  was  due  west,  and 
then  we  went  to  the  north,  on  passing  the  water,  and  walking  up 
the  second  cave. 

In  it  we  ascended  for  seventy-nine  yards,  an  easy  rising  way, 
and  then  came  to  a  swallow,  into  which  a  river  that  ran  towards 
us  fell.  Our  course  to  this  place  was  due  north,  but  as  the  flood 
came  from  the  west,  we  turned  next  to  that  point,  and  by  the  side 
of  this  water  marched  fifty  yards.  The  cavern  was  so  wide  we 
could  not  see  the  walls,  and  the  roof  was  of  a  vast  height. 


1 64  THE  LIFE  OF 


At  the  end  of  fifty  yards,  the  river  appeared  due  north  again, 
and  by  its  side  we  went  for  ten  more,  till  we  came  to  another 
vast  cavern,  that  was  a  steep  ascending  opening,  down  which  the 
river  very  musically  came.     This  place  was  so  like  Pool's  Hole, 
that  I  might  think  myself  in  the  Peak.     It  was  just  such  another 
grand  opening,  up  the  inside  of  a  mountain,  and  had  not  only 
the  descending  flood,  but  as  many  beautiful  stalactical  concretions 
on  the  rising  way  ;  which  formed  the  most  beautiful  pillars, 
walls,  and  figures  of  the  finest  carved  work  ;  but  in  this  it  differed 
from  Pool's  Hole  *  that  the  ascending  opening  in  Richmondshire 
is  much  wider  ;  the  rough,  open  steep,  much  higher  to  the  roof  ; 
and  this  steep  reaches  to  the  summit  of  the  vast  hills,  and  ends 
in  an  opening  in  day.     We  came  out  this  way  on  the  top  of  an 
exceeding  high  mountain,  after  we  had  climbed  from  the  bottom 
to  the  upper  end  four  hundred  and  seventy  nine  yards  ;  add  to 
this  two  hundred  and  twenty  nine  yards,  the  way  we  had  come 
from  the  bottom  of  the  tunnel  to  the  beginning  of  the  watery 
steep,  and  our  march  through  the  mountain,  from  the  time  we 
parted  with  the  gentlemen,  to  our  getting  out  at  the  top  of  it, 
was  seven  hundred  and  eight  yards. 

This  was  a  laborious  route,  and  at  the  hazard  of  our  lives 
many  times,  performed.  Once,  in  particular,  my  lad  RALPH 
fell  into  the  river  with  his  torch  in  the  great  ascent,  and  in  striving 
to  save  his  life  I  lost  the  other  light  I  carried  in  my  hand.  This 
reduced  us  to  a  state  of  the  blackest  darkness,  and  in  that  con- 
dition, we  could  not  stir.  It  was  a  horrible  scene.  It  chilled 
my  blood,  and  curdled  it  in  my  veins,  but  I  had  a  tinder-box, 
matches  and  wax  candle,  in  my  pocket,  and  soon  recovered  the 
desirable  light ;  at  which  we  lighted  other  torches,  and  proceeded 
to  ascend  the  rough  and  rocky  steep,  till  we  came  to  the  fountain 
that  made  the  descending  flood.  The  opening  upwards  from 
that  became  very  narrow,  and  the  slant  so  great,  that  it  was 
extremely  difficult  to  go  on  ;  but  as  I  could  see  the  day  at  the  end 
of  it,  I  resolved  to  strive  hard,  and  mount,  if  possible,  these 


*  Pool's-hole,  about  a  mile  west  of  Buxton-wells  in  Derbyshire,  is  in  the  whole  length 
from  the  entrance  to  the  farthest  ascent,  but  two  hundred  and  thirty  yards.  The  account 
of  this  in  Camden's  Britannia  is  very  imperfect,  and  next  to  nothing  :  and  what  the  authors 
of  the  Tour  through  Great-Britain  say  of  it,  even  in  their  fifth  edition,  in  the  year  1753,  only 
shows  to  one  who  has  been  there,  and  carefully  examined  it,  that  neither  Daniel  Defoe,  nor 
those  since  concerned  in  improving  and  correcting  the  four  volumes  of  the  Tour,  ever  were 
in  the  inside  of  Pool's-hole.  Their  description  of  this,  like  a  thousand  other  places  in  those 
volumes,  is  mere  imagination,  with  some  things  from  Cotton's  false  account ;  and  the  fancy 
not  only  wrong,  but  very  bad.  I  would  describe  it  here,  but  that  the  reader  will  find  me 
in  Derbyshire  before  I  take  my  leave  of  him,  if  death  does  not  prevent,  and  I  shall  then 
give  a  full  and  true  history  of  this  high  and  rough  country  ;  its  waters,  curiosities,  and  anti- 
quities. At  present,  I  shall  only  observe,  to  abate  the  wonder  of  my  passing  from  the  bottoni 
of  the  inside  of  one  of  the  Richmond  mountains  to  the  plain  on  the  top  of  it,  that  the  hill 
in  which  is  Pool's-hole  is  open  within  side,  in  the  ascent,  so  far,  that  five  yards  more  of  aper- 
ture would  bring  one  to  the  outside  of  the  top :  and  I  believe  it  is  very  possible  for  art  to 
make  an  entrance  that  way,  as  nature  has  done  at  the  bottom. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  165 

remaining  sixty  yards.  In  short,  we  did  the  work.  As  before 
related  we  came  out  this  way,  and  from  the  dismal  caverns  of 
night  ascended  to  a  delightful  plain  ;  from  which  we  again  beheld 
the  glorious  sun,  and  had  the  finest  points  of  view.  It  was  by 
this  time  noon,  and  under  the  shade  of  some  aged  trees,  that 
grew  on  the  banks  of  a  great  lake,  on  the  summit  of  this  vast 
hill,  I  sat  down  to  some  bread  and  wine  I  had  brought  with  me 
for  relief.  Never  was  repast  more  sweet.  I  was  not  only  fatigued 
very  much  :  but,  had  been  in  fear  as  to  my  ever  climbing  up,  and 
knew  not  how  to  get  down,  when  I  had  mounted  two  thirds  of 
the  way.  The  descent  was  a  thousand  times  more  dangerous 
than  the  going  towards  the  top. 

When  I  had  done,  I  walked  about  to  see  if  there  was  any  way 
down  the  mountain's  sides,  to  go  to  Ulubrae,  from  whence  I  came  ; 
but  for  miles  it  was  a  frightful  perpendicular  rock,  next  that  place 
and  impossible  for  a  goat  to  descend  ;  and  on  the  side  that  faced 
Bishoprick,  a  fine  country  house  and  gardens,  about  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  off,  in  a  delightful  valley,  that  extended  with  all  the 
beauties  of  wood  and  lawn,  meadow  and  water,  from  the  foot  of 
the  mountain  I  was  on,  the  precipice  here  was  a  terrible  way  for 
a  man  to  venture  down  ;  but  it  was  possible  to  do  it  with  a  long 
pole,  at  the  hazard  of  his  life,  as  the  rocks  projected  in  many 
places,  and  the  side  went  sloping  off  ;  and  therefore  I  resolved  to 
descend.  I  could  not  think  of  going  back  the  way  I  came  ;  since 
I  had  got  safe  into  day  again,  I  thought  it  better  to  risk  my  limbs 
in  the  face  of  the  sun,  than  perish  as  I  might  do  in  the  black  and 
dismal  inside  of  those  tremendous  hills.  Besides,  the  house  in 
my  view  might  be  perhaps  the  one  I  wanted.  It  was  possibly 
my  friend  TURNER  might  live  there. 

With  art  and  caution  then  I  began  to  descend,  and  so  happily 
took  every  offered  advantage  of  jutting  rock  and  path  in  my 
way,  that  without  any  accident  I  got  in  safety  down  ;  though  the 
perils  were  so  great,  that  often  I  could  not  reach  from  rock  to 
rock  with  my  pole.  In  this  case,  I  aimed  the  point  of  my  pole 
at  the  spot  I  intended  to  light  on,  and  clapped  my  feet  close  to 
it,  when  I  went  off  in  the  air  from  the  rock  :  the  pole  coming  first 
to  the  place  broke  the  fall,  and  then  sliding  gently  down  by  it, 
I  pitched  on  the  spot  I  designed  to  go  to,  though  six,  seven,  or 
eight  fathoms  off,  and  the  part  of  the  rock  below  not  more  than 
a  yard  broad.  It  is  a  frightful  piece  of  activity  to  a  bystander, 
but  the  youths  on  the  mountains  of  Ireland  make  nothing  of  it, 
they  are  as  expert  at  this  work  as  the  Teneriffe  men,  from  them 
I  learned  it ;  and  made  RALPH  so  perfect  in  the  action,  while  he 
travelled  with  me,  that  he  could  go  from  rock  to  rock  like  a  bird. 

When  we  came  to  the  ground,  I  sent  my  man  before  me  to  the 
house,  with  my  humble  service  to  the  master  of  it,  Mr.  HARCOURT, 
and  to  let  him  know,  that  I  had  travelled  through  the  inside  of 


1 66  THE  LIFE  OF 


one  of  the  high  mountains  that  surrounded  his  house,  and  on 
coming  out  on  the  top  of  it,  had  made  the  precipice  next  him  my 
road  to  the  valley  he  lived  in  ;  that  I  knew  not  which  way  to  turn 
next,  in  order  to  go  to  Cumberland,  and  begged  leave  to  dine  with 
him,  and  receive  his  information.  This  strange  message,  de- 
livered by  RALPH  with  much  comic  gravity,  that  gentleman  could 
not  tell  what  to  make  of  ;  as  I  had  ordered  my  young  man  not  to 
explain  himself,  but  still  say  that  we  had  travelled  the  inside  of 
the  mountain,  and  came  down  the  precipice.  This  was  so  ur- 
prising  a  thing  to  Mr.  HARCOURT  and  his  daughter,  that  they 
walked  out  with  some  impatience  to  see  this  extraordinary 
traveller,  and  expressed  no  little  amazement  when  they  came 
near  me.  After  a  salute,  Mr.  HARCOURT  told  me  he  did  not 
understand  what  my  servant  had  said  to  him  ;  nor  could  he 
comprehend  how  I  arrived  in  this  valley,  as  there  was  but  one 
passage  into  it  at  the  front  of  his  house  ;  and  my  being  on  foot  too, 
increased  the  wonder  of  my  appearing  in  the  place  :  but  whatever 
way  I  came,  I  was  welcome  to  his  house,  and  he  would  show  me 
the  way  in. 

"  My  arrival  here,  Sir,"  I  replied,  "is  to  be  sure  very  strange, 
and  would  be  almost  incredible  to  hear  told  by  another  person, 
of  one  that  journeyed  two  hundred  and  twenty  nine  yards  deep, 
to  the  foundation  of  this  Alp,  on  the  other  side  of  it,  then  ascended 
a  hollow  way,  till  he  got  out  at  the  top,  and  came  down  a  high 
and  frightful  precipice  to  the  vale  below  :  but  here  I  am  a  proof 
of  the  fact.  I  will  explain  how  it  was  done  ;  "  and  I  began  to 
relate  every  particular  at  large. 

"  But  tell  me,  Sir,"  Miss  HARCOURT  said,  "  if  you  please,  why 
did  you  not  return  the  way  you  came  ;  since  the  other  side  of  the 
mountain  is  impossible  to  descend,  as  you  inform  us  on  account 
of  its  being  a  perpendicular  steep  ;  and  that  you  must  have 
hazarded  your  life  a  thousand  times,  in  coming  down  the  way 
you  did  with  the  pole  ?  I  tremble  as  I  look  at  the  place,  and 
only  with  fancy's  eye,  see  you  on  the  descent.  Beside,  the 
gentlemen  you  left  on  the  other  side  of  the  hill  will  conclude  you 
lost,  and  be  very  greatly  troubled  on  the  account." 

"  My  reason,  Madam,"  I  answered,  "  for  coming  down  this 
very  dangerous  way,  was,  because  I  thought  it,  with  all  its  perils, 
much  safer  than  the  inside  road  I  had  come.  My  activity  I  had 
reason  to  think,  was  superior  to  the  difficulties  of  the  outward 
way,  and  if  I  should  fall,  it  would  be  in  the  light  of  heaven, 
with  a  human  habitation  in  view,  that  might  afford  me  some 
relief,  if  I  only  broke  my  bones  ;  but,  if  in  descending  the  very 
steep  and  horrible  caverns  of  the  hill,  which  with  the  greatest 
difficulty  I  climbed  up,  I  should  happen  to  get  a  fall,  as  in  all 
human  probability  I  would,  and  break  a  limb  in  these  most  dismal 
cavities  of  eternal  night,  I  must  have  perished  in  the  most  miser- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  167 

able  manner,  without  a  possibility  of  obtaining  any  relief.  Nor 
is  this  all,  madam,  the  thing  that  brought  me  here  among  the 
mountains  of  Richmondshire,  was  to  find  a  gentleman  of  my 
acquaintance,  and  when  I  saw  your  house  from  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  I  did  not  know  but  it  might  be  his.  I  fancied  it  was, 
as  the  situation  answered  my  friend's  description  of  the  spot  he 
lived  on. 

"  And  if  it  had  been  his,  madam,  it  would  have  put  an  end  to 
all  my  toils  ;  for  I  am  a  wanderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth, 
through  the  cruelty  of  a  mother-in-law,  and  the  unreasonableness 
of  a  rich  father,  who  has  forsaken  me  because  I  will  not  submit 
to  the  declarations  and  decisions  of  weak  and  fallible  men,  in 
matters  of  pure  revelation  and  divine  faith,  and  own  the  infalli- 
bility of  the  orthodox  system.  Because  the  ascent  of  my  mind 
could  not  go  beyond  the  perception  of  my  understanding,  and 
I  would  not  allow  that  the  popular  confession  is  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,  therefore  I  was  thrown  off,  and  obliged 
to  become  the  pilgrim  you  see  before  you." 

This  history  of  a  forlorn,  seemed  stranger  to  the  young  lady 
and  her  father  than  even  the  account  of  my  journey  through  the 
inside  of  a  mountain,  and  down  a  precipice  that  a  goat  would 
scarce  venture.  They  were  both  very  greatly  amazed  at  my 
relation,  and  Mr.  HARCOURT  was  about  to  ask  me  some  questions, 
when  one  of  his  servants  came  to  let  him  know  that  dinner  was 
serving  up,  and  this  put  an  end  to  our  conversation.  The  master 
of  the  house  brought  me  into  a  fine  room,  and  I  saw  on  the  table 
an  elegant  dinner,  there  was  likewise  a  grand  sideboard,  and 
several  men  servants  attending.  Miss  HARCOURT  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  and  at  her  right  hand  two  young  ladies  vastly  hand- 
some, whom  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  hereafter  in  this 
journal ;  two  ladies  more  were  on  the  other  side  of  her,  pretty 
women,  but  no  beauties  ;  and  next  them  sat  three  gentlemen  ; 
sensible,  well-behaved  men  ;  one  of  them  a  master  of  music,  the 
other  a  master  of  languages,  and  the  third  a  great  painter  ;  who 
were  kept  in  the  house  on  large  salaries,  to  teach  the  young  lady 
these  things.  Mr.  HARCOURT  placed  me  by  himself,  and  was  not 
only  extremely  civil,  but  manifested  a  kind  of  fondness  as  if  he 
was  well  pleased  with  my  arrival.  He  and  his  daughter  took 
great  care  of  me,  and  treated  me  as  if  I  had  been  a  man  of  distinc- 
tion rather  than  the  poor  pilgrim  they  saw  me,  with  my  staff  in 
my  hand.  The  young  lady  talked  to  me  in  a  very  pleasant  manner, 
and  as  I  saw  the  whole  company  were  inclined  to  be  very  cheerful 
I  club'd  as  much  as  I  could  to  promote  good-humour,  and  en- 
crease  the  festivity  of  the  table.  We  laughed  the  afternoon  away 
in  a  charming  manner,  and  when  we  had  done,  we  all  went  to 
walk  in  the  gardens.  Here  the  company  soon  separated,  as  the 
various  beauties  of  the  place  inclined  various  minds  to  different 


1 68  THE  LIFE  OF 


things  and  parts.  Some  pensively  roamed  in  shady  walks,  some 
sat  by  playing  fountains,  and  others  went  to  gather  fruits  and 
flowers.  I  had  the  honour  to  walk  with  Miss  HARCOURT  to  a 
canal  at  some  distance,  and  as  we  went,  this  young  lady  told  me, 
she  did  not  well  understand  me  as  to  what  I  had  said  of  religion 
being  concerned  in  my  becoming  a  traveller,  and  desired  me  to 
be  a  little  more  particular.  "  That  I  will,"  and  immediately  pro- 
ceeded in  the  following  manner. 

"  My  father,  Madam,  is  a  man  of  great  learning,  virtue  and 
knowledge,  but  orthodox  to  the  last  degree,  and  sent  me  to  the 
university  on  purpose  to  make  me  a  theologer,  that  I  might  be  an 
able  defender  of  the  Creed  of  St.  Athanasius,  and  convince  the 
poor  people  of  the  country  he  lived  in,  and  in  good  time,  he  fondly 
hoped,  the  inhabitants  of  many  other  countries  :  that  notwith- 
standing the  symbol  I  have  mentioned  is  what  no  human  appre- 
hension can  comprehend,  and  the  judgment  hath  nothing  to  act 
on  in  consideration  of  it ;  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  understood 
in  that  symbol,  nor  can  a  man  form  any  determination  of  the 
matter  therein  contained  ;  yet  they  must  believe  this  great  and 
awful  mystery  :  that  three  persons  and  Gods  are  only  one  person 
and  God  ;  and,  on  peril  of  eternal  misery,  they  must  confess  that, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  though  three  Beings,  as  distinct 
as  any  three  things  in  the  universe,  yet  are  only  one  Being.  This 
mystery  I  was  to  preach  up  in  his  church,  a  church  in  a  field,  near 
his  house,  to  which  he  had  the  right  of  presenting,  and  enflame 
the  people  against  reason,  that  traitor  to  God  and  religion,  which 
our  adversaries,  the  Christian  deists,  would  make  Lord  and  King 
in  opposition  to  faith.  I  was  to  tell  my  beloved,  that  reason  is 
a  carnal  sensual  devil,  and  that  instead  of  hearkening  to  this 
tempter,  they  must  assent  to  those  heavenly  propositions,  which 
give  wisdom  without  ideas,  and  certainty  without  knowledge. 
You  must  believe,  my  beloved,  that  none  is  before  or  after  the 
other.  None  is  greater  or  less  than  another.  The  infidels  call 
this  an  unintelligible  piece  of  nonsense  :  but  it  is,  my  beloved,  a 
very  transcendent  mystery.  It  does,  we  must  own,  stagger  and 
astonish  us,  being  a  thing  beyond  our  reach  to  comprehend  ;  but, 
it  must  be  believed,  on  peril  of  eternal  misery  as  I  before  observed  : 
and  it  is  easy  to  be  believed,  for  this  plain  reason,  given  by  a  very 
learned  and  pious  bishop  of  our  church  ;  to  wit,  that  it  is  too  high 
to  be  by  us  comprehended.  This  was  the  opinion  of  that  great 
prelate.  Bishop  Beveridge,  in  his  Private  Thoughts,  p.  52,  to 
which  book  I  refer  you,  my  beloved,  for  more  of  his  admirable 
reasoning  on  this  capital  article,  and  further  observe  to  you,  that 
not  only  this  most  pious  bishop,  and  many  other  most  excellent 
prelates  were  of  this  way  of  thinking  ;  but  all  the  most  admirable 
divines  have  declared  in  their  sermons  and  other  matchless  writ- 
ings, that  the  more  incredible  the  Athanasian  creed  is,  and  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  169 

fuller  of  contradictions,  the  more  honour  we  do  to  our  God  in 
believing  it.  It  is  the  glory  of  orthodox  Christians,  that  their 
faith  is  not  only  contrary  to  the  carnal  mind,  but  even  to  the 
most  exalted  reason.  In  matter  of  faith,  we  must  renounce  our 
reason,  even  though  it  be  only  the  thing  that  distinguishes  us 
from  the  beasts,  and  makes  us  capable  of  any  religion  at  all.  No 
human  arguments  are  to  interfere  in  this  victorious  principle  : 
the  catholic  faith  is  the  reverse  of  rational  religion,  and  except 
a  man  believe  it  faithfully,  he  must  go  into  everlasting  fire  and 
brimstone.* 

"  In  this  manner,  Madam,  like  a  mad  bigot,  a  flaming  zealot, 
and  a  sublime  believer,  was  I  to  preach  to  the  people  of  Ireland , 
and  be  an  apostle  for  that  faith  which  is  an  obedience  to  unreason- 
able commands  :  but  unfortunately  for  my  father's  design  :  and 
fortunately  for  my  soul ;  I  was,  on  entering  the  university,  put 
into  the  hands  of  a  gentleman,  who  abhorred  modern  orthodoxy, 
and  made  the  essential  constitutive  happiness  and  perfection  of 
every  intelligent  being  consist  in  the  conformity  of  our  mind  to 
the  moral  rectitude  of  the  Divine  Nature.  This  excellent  man 
convinced  my  understanding,  that  even  faith  in  Christ  is  of  an 
inferior  nature  to  this,  and  that  it  is  only  the  means  to  obtain  it. 
Such  a  conformity  and  obedience  of  the  heart  and  conscience  to 
the  will  of  God  ought  to  be  my  religion,  as  it  was  the  religion  of 
our  Saviour  himself. 

"  Thus,  Madam,  was  I  instructed  by  a  master  of  arts,  my  pri- 
vate tutor,  and  when  to  his  lessons  I  added  my  own  careful  ex- 
aminations of  the  vulgar  faith,  and  the  mind  of  our  Lord,  as  I 
found  it  in  the  books,  I  was  thoroughly  satisfied,  that  an  act  of 
faith  is  an  act  of  reason,  and  an  act  of  reason  an  act  of  faith,  in 
religious  matters  ;  that  our  Lord  was  not  the  great  God  ;  nor  a 
part  of  that  compound,  called  the  Triune-God  ;  the  miserable 
invention  of  divines  ;  but,  a  more  extraordinary  messenger  than 
the  prophets  under  the  law  chosen  by  the  divine  wisdom,  to  pub- 
lish the  will  of  God  to  mankind,  and  sent  under  the  character  of 
his  son,  and  spiritual  heir  of  his  inheritance  the  church,  to  new- 
form  the  ages,  and  fix  such  good  principles  in  the  minds  of  men, 
as  would  be  productive  of  all  righteousness  in  the  conversation  : 

*  Little  did  I  think  when  I  talked  in  such  a  manner  to  Miss  HARCOURT  against  the  famous 
symbol,  that  I  should  ever  find  in  the  book  of  a  most  learned  man  and  excellent  divine,  the 
same  kind  of  arguments  seriously  produced  in  favour  of  the  Creed  of  St.  Athanasius;  yet  this 
strange  thing  has  time  brought  on,  and  thereby  convinced  the  world,  that  the  greatest  learn- 
ing and  the  most  exalted  piety,  employed  in  the  cause  of  mystery,  can  become  so  extravagant 
and  erring  as  to  maintain  that  a  thing  incomprehensible  to  human  reason  can  be  revealed, 
and  that  the  more  incomprehensible  it  is  to  human  reason,  and  the  more  senseless  it  appears 
to  human  understanding,  the  more  glorious  is  the  object  of  faith,  and  the  more  worthy  to  be 
believed  by  a  Christian.  This  deplorable  argument  for  the  truth  of  Christianity  I  met  with 
in  a  book  lately  published  by  an  admirable  man,  Dr.  Joseph  Smith,  provost  of  Queen's  Col- 
lege, Oxon.  In  his  third  section  of  A  Clear  and  Comprehensive  View  of  the  Being,  Nature,  and 
Attributes  of  God,  from  p.  61,  to  p.  78,  the  reader  may  see  this  ple»  for  darkness,  confusion 
and  implicit  faith. 


THE  LIFE  OF 


that  he  was  sent  to  destroy  sin  and  the  kingdom  of  Satan  ;  and 
to  bring  the  human  race  to  a  perfect  obedience  to  the  will  of  the 
Supreme  Being. 

"  All  this,  Madam,  was  as  plain  to  me  as  the  sun  in  summer's 
bright  day  ;  and  therefore,  instead  of  laying  aside  my  under- 
standing, and  believing  things  without  any  rational  ground  or 
evidence  at  all ;  instead  of  going  into  orders,  to  draw  revealed 
conclusions  from  revealed  propositions,  and  by  a  deep  logic,  make 
scripture  consequences,  that  have  no  meaning  in  the  words,  for 
the  faith  of  the  people  ;  I  was  so  free  and  ingenuous  as  to  let  my 
father  know,  that  of  all  things  in  the  world  I  never  would  be  a 
parson,  since  the  character  obliged  me  to  swear  and  subscribe 
to  articles  I  could  not  find  in  my  Bible  ;  nor  would  I,  as  a  layman, 
ever  read  or  join  in  the  service  of  reading  the  tritheistic  liturgy 
and  offices  he  used  in  his  family.  I  was  determined,  though  I 
lost  his  favour  and  large  fortune  by  the  resolution,  to  live  and 
die  a  Christian  deist ;  confessing  before  men  the  personal  unity 
and  perfections  of  the  true  God,  and  the  personal  mediatorial 
office  of  Jesus  Christ.  As  St.  Paul  maintained  the  personal  unity 
and  absolute  supremacy  of  the  true  God,  and  in  his  description 
of  the  Deity,  did  not  tell  the  Athenians,  that  he  was  a  Triune 
Being,  to  be  considered  under  the  notion  of  three  persons,  of  three 
understandings  and  will,  in  a  co-ordinate  triplicity  of  all  divine 
attributes  and  perfections  ;  but  one  individual  personal  Agent — 
one  great  Spirit,  or  mind,  self-existent,  and  omnipotent  in  wisdom 
and  action — one  supreme  Almighty  Creator  and  Governor  of  the 
world,  the  God  and  Father  of  Jesus  Christ ;  I  shall  therefore,  in 
obedience  to  the  apostle,  and  to  the  other  inspired  writers,  believe 
in  and  worship  the  same  God,  the  one  God,  the  only  true  God,  as 
our  Lord  says  in  Matthew  and  Mark  ;  through  the  alone  media- 
tion and  intercession  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Redeemer  and  only  be- 
gotten Son  of  God  ;  depending  upon  the  effectual  aid  and  assist- 
ance of  the  blessed  Spirit,  in  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality. 
This  is,  this  shall  be  my  religion,  whatever  I  may  feel  from  an 
antichristian  tyranny,  on  account  of  the  confession.  Though  an 
outrage  of  uncharitable  zeal  should  strip  me  of  every  worldly 
comfort,  and  reduce  me  to  a  want  of  bread.  If  I  should  become 
a  spectacle  to  men  and  angels  by  the  faith,  yet  I  will  believe  as 
Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles  have  ordered  the  world  to  believe. 
No  unintelligible  cant,  or  scholastic  jargon  for  me.  The  Holy 
Ghost  has  in  scripture  expressed  it  sufficiently  and  unexception- 
ably  clear,  that  there  is  One  Supreme  Independent  First-Cause 
of  all  things,  a  Spirit,  that  is,  One  Spirit,  One  God  ;  I  am  God,  and 
there  is  none  like  Me :  I  am  God  and  there  is  none  else,  beside 
Me  ;  with  Me  ;  none  but  Me  ;  Thus  does  the  Holy  Ghost  declare  ; 
and  what  signify  the  despicable,  heretical  declarations  of  the 
doctors,  in  respect  of  this  ? 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


"  Then,  as  a  test  of  Christianity,  the  same  blessed  Spirit  adds, 
that  Jesus  is  the  true  Messiah,  was  sent  from  God  to  reveal  his 
will  for  the  salvation  of  man,  and  is  the  only  Mediator  betwixt 
God  and  man.  Thus  has  the  Holy  Ghost  regulated  our  faith  and 
practice,  and  I  think  it  incumbent  on  me  to  mind  what  he  says, 
and  flee  the  invented  pieties  of  our  theologers.  I  did  so,  and  dis- 
obliged my  father.  I  lost  his  favour  entirely.  He  would 
take  no  farther  notice  of  me,  and  I  became  as  you  see  a 
wanderer." 

This  discourse,  delivered  with  my  fire  and  action,  amazed  Miss 
HARCOURT  so  greatly,  that  for  some  time  after  I  had  done,  she 
could  not  speak,  but  continued  looking  with  great  earnestness  at 
me.  At  last  however  she  said,  "  I  am  glad,  Sir,  it  has  been  my 
fate  to  meet  with  you,  and  must,  when  there  is  more  time,  con- 
verse with  you  on  this  subject.  My  father  and  I  have  had  some 
doubts  as  to  the  truth  of  the  Athanasian  creed  ;  but  he  told  me, 
he  did  not  choose  to  examine  the  thing,  as  it  had  the  sanction  of 
ages,  and  was  believed  by  the  greatest  divines  in  all  nations.  If 
it  be  wrong,  let  the  churchmen  answer  for  it.  But  this  does  not 
satisfy  me  ;  and  since  I  have  seen  one  that  has  forsaken  all  rather 
than  live  a  disciple  of  Athanasius,  after  a  thorough  examination 
of  the  system  ;  and  that  you  have  now  said  some  things  against 
it  that  shew  the  folly  of  believing  it,  and  make  it  a  faith  the  most 
preposterous  and  unreasonable,  I  am  determined  to  enquire  into 
the  merit  of  it,  and  see  if  Christians  ought  to  acknowledge  the 
supreme  dominion  and  authority  of  God  the  Father  ;  that  the 
Father  is  absolutely  God,  the  great  God  in  the  absolute  supreme 
sense  by  nature  ;  and  the  Son,  only  a  God  by  communication  of 
divinity  from  the  Father,  that  is,  by  having  received  from  the 
Father,  the  supreme  cause,  his  being,  attributes,  and  power  over 
the  whole  creation  :  or,  if  they  ought  to  ascribe  supreme  authority, 
and  original  independent  absolute  dominion  to  God  the  Father, 
God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost  ;  three  distinct  supreme 
Gods,  and  yet  but  one  supreme  God,  as  the  church  informs  us  in 
her  famous  creed,  and  thereby  makes  us  swallow  a  contradiction, 
as  I  have  often  thought,  and  a  doctrine  against  which  a  great 
number  of  texts  can  be  produced.  This  I  will  examine.  My 
reason  shall  be  no  longer  silent  in  so  important  a  case.  If  a  Trinity 
in  unity  of  equal  minds  or  Gods  is  not  to  be  proved  by  the  inspired 
writings,  the  doctors  preaching  it,  and  by  creed  requiring  it,  will 
be  no  justifiable  plea  or  excuse  for  me,  I  am  sensible,  in  the  great 
rising  day.  I  had  better,  in  such  case,  leave  all  as  you  have 
bravely  done,  were  my  father  so  orthodox  and  furious  a  bigot 
as  to  force  me  to  be  a  religionist  against  my  conscience.  What 
I  have  to  beg  of  you,  Sir,"  Miss  HARCOURT  continued,  "  is  that 
you  will  to-morrow,  oblige  me  with  your  thoughts  on  the  texts  I 
have  marked,  as  produced  by  orthodox  divines  for  their  myste- 


172  THE  LIFE  OF 


rious  religion*.  If  you  make  me  sensible  that  those  texts  do  not 
prove  the  doctrine  they  are  brought  for,  and  of  consequence,  that 
the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  as  by  them  taught,  is  the  work  of  un- 
inspired writers,  I  shall  renounce  it  to  be  sure.  I  will  no  longer 
mistake  contradictions  for  mysteries.  The  schemes  and  inven- 
tions of  men  shall  not  pass  with  me  for  the  revelations  of  God." 
Here  Mr.  HARCOURT  came  up  to  us,  and  desired  to  know,  if  it 
was  a  fair  question,  what  we  two  had  been  talking  so  earnestly, 
on  ;  for  it  seemed  at  a  distance  to  be  something  more  than  ordinary. 
"  I  will  tell  you,  Sir,"  his  daughter  replied,  and  immediately  began 
to  relate  the  whole  conference,  and  her  resolution.  "  Your  resolu- 
tion," the  father  said,  "  is  excellent.  You  have  not  only  my 
consent,  but  I  recommend  it  to  you  as  the  noblest  work  you  can 
employ  any  time  on.  For  my  part,  Sir,"  Mr.  HARCOURT  con- 
tinued, turning  himself  to  me,  "  I  never  liked  this  part  of  our 
protestant  religion,  and  have  often  wished  our  public  prayers  had 
seen  more  conformable  to  the  simplicity  of  the  gospel ;  that  we 
had  been  contented  with  what  our  Master  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
delivered,  and  not  made  human  compositions  the  standard  of 
salvation  :  but  since  the  church  in  her  wisdom  has  thought  it 
should  be  otherwise,  I  have  submitted  to  her  authority,  and  been 
silent  on  the  doctrines  she  claims  a  right  to  determine  ;  though 
some  of  them  to  me  appear  doubtful,  and  others  repugnant  to 
scripture  :  beside,  my  studies  have  been  in  other  fields  than  that 
of  controversy  :  mathematics  and  antiquities  have  employed  my 
time,  and  I  have  neither  taste  nor  capacity  for  that  criticism 
which  is  necessary  for  the  examination  of  such  points :  greatly 
however  do  I  honour  those  who  have  the  ability  and  patience  to 
go  through  the  work,  as  I  must  own  it  is  of  the  utmost  importance, 
and  that  the  orthodox  faith  is  a  sad  thing,  if  the  truth  be,  after 
all  our  Athanasian  believing,  that  Christ  is  no  more  than  God's 
instrument,  as  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  name  him  ;  a  successful 
teacher  of  wisdom,  righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption  : 
and  that  God  is  to  be  owned  and  praised,  as  the  true,  chief  and 
original  cause  of  all  spiritual  blessings,  according  to  the  counsel 
of  his  own  will,  his  own  good  pleasure,  purpose,  &c.,  without 
partner  or  second  person  to  intreat  and  satisfy  for  us.  If  this  be 
the  case,  may  the  Lord  have  mercy  on  our  poor  orthodox  souls  : 
and  as  it  may  be  so,  I  honour  you  for  enquiring  into  the  matter, 
and  especially  for  your  good  Spirit  in  preferring  the  things  that 
are  eternal,  when  what  you  thought  truth  could  not  be  held  with 
things  temporal.  I  have,"  Mr.  HARCOURT  continued,  "  a  very 

*  The  texts  produced  by  Miss  HARCOURT,  the  next  day,  in  a  sheet  of  paper,  she  gave  me 
and  in  my  written  explication  of  them  in  answer,  I  satisfied  her,  that  the,letter  of  scripture 
was  not  full  in  favor  of  contradiction,  and  that  where  it  had  any  appearance  of  being  so, 
reason  allowed  the  purest  modesty  to  use  some  freedom  in  interpreting,  and  take  the  texts 
in  a  lower  meaning,  such  a  liberty  as  protestants  take  with  the  words  '  this  is  my  body,'  when 
they  reject  the  doctrine  of  transubstantiation.  By  this  means  I  made  a  convert  of  her.  This 
lady  became  a  strict  Christiaa-Deist. 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  173 

great  esteem  for  you  on  this  account,  and  if  I  can  be  of  service 
to  you,  I  will."  He  imagined  I  might  want  money,  and  if  I  did,  he 
would  lend  me  a  hundred  guineas,  without  interest,  payable  on 
my  note  of  hand,  when  I  could.  He  immediately  took  out  of 
his  pocket-book  a  bank  note  for  that  sum,  and  pressed  me  to 
accept  it.  He  likewise  invited  me  to  stay  at  his  house,  while  he 
continued  in  the  country,  which  would  be  for  a  month  longer. 
He  assured  me  also,  that  I  might  make  it  my  residence  after  he 
left  it,  if  I  pleased  ;  there  would  be  two  servants  to  attend  me, 
and  there  was  excellent  mutton,  and  other  things  for  my  table. 
Nor  is  this  all,  you  shall  have  the  key  of  my  study." 

These  offers  astonished  me,  and  I  said,  "  most  generous  Sir,  I 
return  you  the  thanks  of  a  grateful  heart,  and  will  ever  remember 
your  goodness  to  me  with  that  sense  such  uncommon  kindness 
deserves,  though  I  cannot  enjoy  the  benefits  you  would  make  me 
happy  with.  As  to  money  I  do  not  want  any  yet,  and  when  I 
do  it  will  be  time  enough  for  me  to  borrow,  if  I  should  find  any 
one,  like  you,  so  benevolently  disposed  as  to  lend  me  cash  without 
security  and  interest  :  and  as  to  staying  at  your  house,  that  offer 
I  cannot  accept,  as  I  am  engaged  to  a  near  and  rich  friend,  who 
will  be  to  me  a  subaltern  providence,  if  he  can  be  found,  and 
secure  me  from  the  evils  my  attachment  to  truth  has  exposed 
me  to.  One  week  however  I  will  stay  with  you,  since  you  are  so 
good  as  to  invite  me  in  this  kind  manner." 

Here  then  I  stayed  a  week,  and  passed  it  in  a  most  happy  way. 
Mr.  HARCOURT  was  fond  of  me,  and  did  every  thing  in  his  power 
to  render  the  place  agreeable.  His  lovely  daughter  was  not  only 
as  civil  as  it  was  possible  to  be,  but  did  me  tfie  honour  to  commence 
a  friendship  with  me,  which  lasted  from  that  time  till  death  des- 
troyed the  golden  thread  that  linked  it. 

Reader,  this  young  lady,  HARRIET  EUSEBIA  HARCOURT,  was 
the  foundress  of  a  religious  house  of  protestant  recluses,  who  are 
still  a  society  in  that  part  of  Richmondshire  where  I  first  saw  her 
and  her  father.  They  are  under  no  vow,  but  while  they  please 
to  continue  members,  live  as  they  do  in  nunneries,  and  in  piety, 
and  in  all  the  parts  of  the  Christian  temper,  endeavour  a  resem- 
blance of  their  divine  Lord  and  Master  ;  with  this  distinction 
however,  that  to  the  plan  of  the  regards  due  from  man  by  the 
divine  Law  to  God,  to  his  fellow-creatures,  and  to  himself,  they 
add  music  and  painting  for  their  diversion,  and  unbend  their 
minds  in  these  delightful  arts,  for  a  few  hours  every  day.  This 
makes  them  excel  in  these  particulars.  They  are  great  masters 
in  all  kinds  of  music,  and  do  wonders  with  the  pencil. 

EUSEBIA  was  but  just  turned  of  twenty  when  I  first  saw  her, 
in  the  year  1725,  and  then  her  musical  performances  were  admir- 
able ;  her  pictures  had  the  ordonnance,  colouring,  and  expression 
of  a  great  master.  She  was  born  with  a  picturesque  genius,  and 


174  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  capacity  to  give  measure  and  movement  to  compositions  of 
harmony.  Her  music  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of  had  a  most 
surprising  power  ;  and  in  painting,  long  before  this  time,  she 
astonished.  When  she  was  a  child,  nine  years  old,  and  had  no 
master,  she  would  sketch  with  a  black  lead  pencil  on  a  sheet  of 
paper  the  pictures  of  various  kinds  that  came  in  her  way,  and 
make  such  imitations  as  deserved  the  attention  of  judges.  This 
made  her  father  get  her  an  eminent  master,  and  she  had  not  been 
long  under  his  direction,  when  she  was  able  to  infuse  a  soul  into 
her  figures,  and  motion  into  her  compositions.  She  not  only 
drew  landscapes,  and  low  subjects  with  a  success  great  as  Teniers, 
but  evinced  by  her  paintings,  that  she  brought  into  the  world 
with  her  an  aptitude  for  works  of  a  superior  class.  Her  pictures 
shew  that  she  was  not  the  last  among  the  painters  of  history. 
They  are  as  valuable  for  the  merit  of  the  execution  as  for  the 
merit  of  the  subjects. 

Her  histories  of  the  Revelations  of  St.  John,  which  she  finished 
a  little  before  her  death,  from  the  first  vision  to  the  last,  demon- 
strated a  genius  very  wonderful,  and  that  her  hand  was  perfected 
at  the  same  time  with  her  imagination.  If  this  series  of  pictures 
is  not  in  every  respect  equal  to  Giotto's  on  the  same  subject, 
which  I  have  seen  in  the  cloister  of  St.  Clare  at  Naples  ;  they  are 
at  least  treated  with  greater  truth,  and  shew  that  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  painter  had  a  hand  and  eye  at  its  disposal  to  display 
the  finest  ideas.  The  great  artist  is  obvious  in  them. 

The  first  picture  of  this  Series  is  a  representation  of  the  inside 
of  the  glorious  temple,  that  was  made  the  grand  scene  of  all  the 
things  St.  John  saw  in  the  Spirit  ;  the  golden-lamp-sconce,  called 
the  seven  candlesticks,  which  afforded  the  sanctuary  all  its  light 
and  the  august  personage,  who  appears  in  refulgent  brightness 
in  the  vision  in  the  midst  of  the  seven  golden  candlesticks.  The 
majestic  and  godlike  form  which  the  apostle  beheld  is  wonderfully 
painted.  He  is  represented  with  more  than  human  majesty.  Like 
Raphael  in  his  picture  of  the  Eternal  Father,  in  one  of  the  Vatican 
chapels,  she  does  not  inspire  us  merely  with  veneration,  she  strikes 
us  even  with  an  awful  terror  :  elle  n'inspire  pas  une  simple  venera- 
tion, elle  imprime  une  terreur  respectueuse.  In  his  right  hand, 
this  grand  person  holds  the  main  shaft  that  supports  the  six 
branches  of  the  six  lighted  lamps,  and  the  seventh  lamp  at  the  top 
of  the  main  trunk,  which  gleam  like  a  rod  of  seven  stars,  as  it  is 
written,  "having  in  his  hand  seven  stars,"  and  in  this  attitude 
with  his  face  to  the  apostle,  he  appears  in  the  midst  of  the  seven 
golden  candlesticks,  the  emblems  of  the  churches  walking,  or 
attending  to  trim  them,  the  churches  ;  with  a  sharp  two-edged 
sword,  that  is,  the  powerful  word  of  God,  as  Aaron  walked  to  trim 
the  real  lamps  with  the  golden  snuffers.  St.  John  is  seen  on  the 
floor.  He  is  looking  in  great  surprise  at  the  whole  appearance, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  175 

and  as  with  amazement  he  beholds  the  divine  Person  in  the  vision, 
he  seems  struck  with  dread,  and  going  to  faint  away  ;  as  he  says 
in  the  Apocalypse,  "  When  I  saw  him,  I  fell  at  his  feet  as  dead." 

The  next  picture  in  this  series  is  a  continuation  of,  or  another 
representation  of  the  inside  of  the  temple,  the  golden  lamp-sconce 
of  seven  golden  candlesticks,  and  the  august  personage  in  reful- 
gent brightness,  and  splendors  transcendently  glorious  ;  but  with 
this  difference,  that  in  this  piece,  the  divine  personage  does  not 
hold  the  main  shaft  of  the  branches  of  lights  in  his  right-hand,  or 
stand  in  the  midst  of  the  candlesticks  ;  but,  notwithstanding  his 
sublime  dignity,  is  painted  with  a  godlike  compassion  in  his  face 
and  manner,  and  with  the  greatest  tenderness  raises  and  supports 
the  apostle.  You  see  him,  as  described  by  St.  John  ;  "  he  laid 
his  right-hand  upon  me,"  the  hand  which  before  held  the  seven 
stars,  or  lighted  golden  lamps,  that  exhibited  an  appearance  not 
unlike  a  constellation  of  stars ;  "  saying  unto  me,  fear  not.  I  am 
the  first  and  the  last.  I  am  he  that  liveth,  even  though  I  was 
dead,  and  behold  I  am  alive  for  evermore,  Amen.  And  I  have 
the  keys  of  hell  and  of  death."  One  almost  hears  these  words 
from  the  lips  of  the  august  form,  so  wonderfully  is  the  figure 
painted,  so  happily  has  the  pencil  counterfeited  nature,  and  the 
apostle  appears  to  revive  in  transports,  as  he  knows  from  the 
words  that  it  is  his  Lord  and  Master  is  speaking  to  him.  It  is  a 
fine  picture. 

The  third  painting  in  this  series  is  the  subsequent  vision  in 
the  4th  and  5th  chapters  of  the  Revelation  of  John  the  Divine.  In 
a  part  of  the  heavens  that  are  opened,  the  throne  of  God  is  repre- 
sented by  a  crystal  seat  of  glory,  and  from  it  proceed  flashings 
of  a  bright  flame  like  lightning  and  thunder,  to  represent  the 
awful  majesty  of  the  One,  and  One  Only,  True  God,  the  Supreme 
Lord  of  all  things  :  seven  lamps  of  fire  are  burning  before  this 
throne,  as  emblems  of  the  seven  spirits,  or  principal  servants  of 
God,  to  shew  with  what  purity,  constancy,  and  zeal,  the  spirits 
of  the  just  made  perfect  serve  God  in  the  heavenly  church  ;  and 
next  them  appears  a  crystal  sea  of  great  brightness  and  beauty  ; 
much  more  glorious  than  the  brazen  sea  in  the  temple,  which  held 
the  water  for  the  use  of  the  priests.  This  sea  alludes  to  that  purity 
that  is  required  in  all  persons  who  have  the  honour  and  happiness 
of  a  near  approach  to  God,  as  he  manifests  himself  on  the  throne 
of  inaccessible  light,  or,  in  the  moral  shechinah  in  this  lower  world.* 

*  As  the  first  notion  of  God's  glory,  in  the  scripture,  is  a  physical  notion,  and  signifies  the 
manifestation  of  God,  by  fire,  light,  clouds,  brightness,  and  other  meteorous  symbols,  such 
as  the  marching  pillars  of  fire  and  cloud  that  went  before  the  Israelites,  and  the  shechinah 
in  the  Holy  of  Holies,  which  the  Jews  called  the  visible  presence  ;  so  is  there  a  glory  of  God 
in  a  moral  signification.  There  is  a  shechinah  in  a  physical  sense  by  fire,  light,  and  refracted 
colours  :  and  there  is  a  moral  shechinah,  or  glory,  when  men  live  in  obedience  to  all  the  divine 
laws,  and  walk  as  children  of  light.  This  shews  the  special  presence  of  God  in  the  righteous, 
as  much  as  the  cloud  of  glory  did  manifest  him  in  the  temple.  The  power  and  wisdom  and 


1/6  THE  LIFE  OF 


The  next  figures  are  the  four  living  creatures,  or  cherubim  of 
Ezekiel,  which  our  English  translation  very  badly  renders  four 
beasts  ;  and  they  are  placed  in  the  middle  of  each  side  of  the 
throne,  in  the  whole  circle  round  about,  full  of  eyes,  not  only 
before  but  behind,  so  as  to  have  a  direct  and  full  view  every  way, 
without-side  them  ;  on  seats,  are  the  four  and  twenty  elders 
placed,  in  white  and  shining  garments,  with  crowns  of  gold  upon 
their  heads.  The  person  who  sits  on  the  throne  appears  in  great 
majesty  and  glory,  and  round  about  his  throne  the  most  beautiful 
rainbow  is  seen  ;  to  express  the  glory  of  God,  and  his  faithfulness 
to  his  covenant  and  promise  :  the  four  living  creatures  next  the 
throne,  who  represent  the  angels  attendant  on  the  shechinah, 
and  have  the  appearance  of  a  lion,  a  calf,  a  man,  and  an  eagle  full 
of  eyes,  and  with  six  wings,  to  express  the  great  understanding 
and  power  of  the  angels,  their  activity,  constancy,  and  good  will  ; 
they  are  drawn  in  the  act  of  adoring  and  praising  the  eternal  living 
God  ;  and  are  answered  by  the  four  and  twenty  elders,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  people,  the  churches.  So  inimitably  are  all 
these  things  painted,  that  the  faces  of  the  cherubim  and  the  four 
and  twenty  elders  seem  to  move  in  worship  and  thanksgiving  : 
one  acquainted  with  the  divine  songs,  cannot  help  fancying  that 
he  hears  the  four  living  creatures,  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy,  Lord 
God  Almighty,  which  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come  ;  who  for  ever 
wast,  and  for  ever  wilt  be,  the  one  true  God,  the  everlasting  Lord;" 
and  that  the  elders,  that  is,  the  Christian  people,  reply,  "Thou 
art  worthy,  O  Lord,  to  receive  glory,  and  honour,  and  power  :  for 
Thou  hast  created  all  things,  and  for  Thy  pleasure  they  are  and 
were  created." 

The  apostle  St.  John,  appears  in  great  admiration,  on  account 
of  the  things  before  him,  but  seems  more  particularly  affected 
by  a  book  sealed  with  seven  seals,  which  the  person  who  sits  on 
the  throne  holds  in  his  right-hand  ;  an  angel  who  is  painted  in  the 
act  of  proclaiming  with  a  loud  voice,  "  Who  is  worthy  to  open  the 
book,  and  to  loose  the  seals  thereof;"  and  a  lamb  with  seven 
horns  and  eyes,  standing  just  before  the  throne,  within  the  circles 
of  the  cherubim  and  elders  :  this  Lamb,  represented  as  a  sacrifice, 
and  with  seven  horns  and  eyes,  to  shew  the  power,  wisdom,  and 
goodness  of  our  Lord  in  the  work  of  redemption,  and  the  accom- 
plishment of  all  God's  designs  of  wisdom  and  grace,  engages  the 
attention  and  wonder  of  the  apostle  ;  and  as  this  Lamb  of  God 
receives  the  book  from  the  person  on  the  throne,  a  rising  joy 
appears  through  the  astonishment  of  St.  John,  and  seems  to  be 


goodness  of  God  are  displayed  in  the  holy  lives  of  men.     Like  the  heavens 
glory,  and  are  the  visible  epistle  of  Christ  to  the  world,  written  not  with  ir 


the  heavens  they  declare  his 
ink,  but  with  the 

spirit  of  the  Living  God.    ""  Know  ye  not  that  ye  are  the  temple  of  God,  and  that  his  Spirit 
dwelleth  in  you  ?  " 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  177 

encreasing,  as  he  hears  the  living  creatures  and  the  elders  sing  a 
new  song,  or  hymn  of  a  new  composition,  which  expresses  the 
peculiar  honour  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  our  peculiar  engagements 
to  him,  in  these  words  "Thou  art  worthy  to  take  the  book,  and 
to  open  the  seals  thereof  :  for  thou  wast  slain,  and  hast  redeemed 
us  unto  God  by  thy  blood,  out  of  every  kindred,  and  tongue,  and 
people,  and  nation.  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain  to  receive 
power  and  riches,  and  wisdom  and  strength,  and  honour,  and  glory 
and  blessing.  Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power,  be 
unto  him,  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb  for 
ever  and  ever."  And  as  the  angels  conclude  this  solemn  act  of 
worship  by  saying  "  Amen  ;  "  and  the  people  by  worshipping  him 
that  liveth  for  ever  and  ever,  the  true  God,  who  liveth  and  reigneth 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting  ;  and  having  raised  up  his  Son 
Jesus,  sent  him  to  bless  you  in  turning  every  one  of  you  from  his 
iniquities  ;  the  apostle  seems  in  pleasure  to  join  them,  and  shews 
a  sensibility  and  action  that  is  very  wonderful.  It  is  a  charming 
picture.  The  divine  artist  has  treated  the  whole  subject  with 
the  most  elaborate  and  beautiful  expression,  and  with  a  delightful 
richness  of  local  colours.  This  painting  gives  the  beholder  a  full 
and  fine  idea  of  the  vision. 

But  it  was  not  only  in  painting,  and  in  music,  that  Miss  HAR- 
COURT  excelled  :  she  had  when  I  first  saw  her,  made  great  progress 
in  her  studies,  and  discovered  in  her  conversation  extraordinary 
abilities.  She  talked  wisely  and  learnedly  on  many  subjects, 
and  in  so  charming  a  manner,  that  she  entered  into  the  possession 
of  the  heart,  and  the  admiration  of  all  that  heard  her  :  nor  was  it 
only  in  pure  Italian,  Spanish,  and  other  languages  that  she  could 
express  her  notions  ;  but,  in  the  correctest  Latin  she  often  spoke 
to  me,  and  for  an  hour  would  discourse  in  the  Roman  tongue, 
with  as  great  ease  as  if  she  had  been  talking  English.  She  spoke 
it  without  any  manner  of  difficulty,  which  was  more  than  I  could 
do.  I  was  slow,  and  paused  sometimes  ;  but  that  young  lady 
went  on  with  that  volubility  of  tongue  the  women  are  born  with. 
The  language  being  Latin  was  no  check  to  her  natural  fluency 
of  speech. 

To  all  this  let  me  add,  and  with  truth  I  can  add  it,  that  EUSEBIA, 
from  the  time  I  was  first  acquainted  with  her  to  her  death,  walked 
in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  of  consequence  in  the  comforts  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Religion  from  her  infancy  was  her  stated  and 
ordinary  business,  and  her  sole  concern  to  know  and  to  do  her 
duty  to  God  and  men.  The  Proverbs  of  Solomon  and  the  pattern 
of  Christ,  were  her  study  when  a  very  young  girl,  and  from  both 
she  acquired  a  conduct  so  prudent  and  evangelical,  that  she 
seemed  at  the  greatest  heights  of  grace  and  goodness  which  a 
mortal  can  reach,  and  appeared  as  one  that  had  made  a  prodigious 
proficiency  in  divine  knowledge,  and  in  every  virtue  ;  yet  there 


178  THE  LIFE  OF 


was  nothing  gloomy,  or  even  formal  in  her  behaviour  :  she  was 
good-humour  itself  :  frank  and  free  ;  quite  easy,  and  for  ever 
cheerful. 

Miss  HARCOURT,  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  that  is,  in  the 
one  and  twentieth  year  of  her  age,  had  all  the  qualities  that  con- 
stitute a  beauty  ;  she  was  tall  and  graceful,  and  in  every  action, 
and  her  whole  behaviour,  to  the  last  degree  charming  ;  her  eyes 
were  vastly  fine,  large  and  long,  even  with  her  face,  black  as  night, 
and  had  a  sparkling  brightness  as  great  as  could  appear  from  the 
refraction  of  diamonds  :  her  hair  was  as  the  polished  jet,  deep 
and  glossy  ;  and  yet,  her  complexion  fresh  as  the  glories  of  the 
spring,  and  her  lips  like  a  beautiful  flower. 

This  lady  was  nine  years  abroad  with  her  father,  who  died  of 
the  plague  at  Constantinople  in  1733,  and  in  the  course  of  her 
travels,  did  me  the  honour  to  write  me  many  fine  letters,  in  which 
she  obliged  me  with  her  remarks  on  the  things  and  people  they 
saw  in  many  countries.  We  held  a  correspondence  together,  for 
a  considerable  part  of  the  time,  and  in  return  for  her  valuable 
favours,  I  sent  her  the  best  account  I  could  give  of  the  matters 
that  came  in  my  way.  These  letters  may  perhaps  appear  some 
day. 

In  1734  Mrs.  HARCOURT  returned  to  England,  and  brought  over 
with  her  some  ladies,  who  became  constituents  of  her  claustral 
house.  They  formed  the  most  rational  and  happy  society  that 
ever  united,  and  during  the  life  of  the  foundress,  resided  some- 
time in  one  of  the  Western  Islands,  but  for  the  most  part  in  Rich- 
mondshire.  Since  her  death,  which  happened  in  1745,  they  have 
lived  entirely  in  the  North  of  England,  separated  from  all  the 
world  by  the  most  dreadful  mountains.  They  were  but  twelve 
in  number  for  several  years,  but,  in  the  sixth  year  of  the  Institute, 
Mrs.  HARCOURT  encreased  it  to  twenty-four  members,  by  taking 
in  twelve  el£ves  or  disciples.  The  twelve  seniors  govern  a  year 
about  in  their  turns,  unless  it  be  the  request  of  the  house,  that 
the  superior  for  the  year  past  should  continue  in  the  office  another 
year.  This,  and  their  easy  circumstances,  secure  their  peace, 
and  as  they  are  ever  wise  to  that  which  is  good,  and  simple  con- 
cerning evil,  they  lead  most  happy  lives  :  nor  can  it  be  otherwise 
with  mortals  who  cultivate  the  grace  of  humility,  the  want  of 
which  lies  at  the  bottom  of  all  contentions,  and  by  a  Christian 
prudence,  make  it  their  main  work  to  facilitate  the  practice  of 
piety,  and  to  promote  the  pleasure  and  the  lustre  of  it.  Glorious 
women  !  to  letters,  arts,  and  piety,  they  devote  those  hours  which 
others  waste  in  vanities  the  most  senseless  and  despicable  ;  and 
pursuant  to  the  advice,  and  according  to  the  rule  drawn  up  by 
their  illustrious  foundress,  live  as  beings  that  have  souls  designed 
for  eternity.  They  act  continually  upon  a  future  prospect,  and 
give  all  the  diligence  in  making  constant  advances  toward  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  179 

perfect  day.  Mrs.  HARCOURT  shewed  them,  what  an  uninspired 
mortal  could  do  by  the  means  of  grace  ;  that  it  was  possible  for 
assisted  human  nature,  feeble  as  flesh  and  blood  is,  to  resist  temp- 
tations the  most  violent,  and  by  the  supreme  motives  of  our  reli- 
gion, acquit  ourselves  like  Christians.  If  there  be  a  devil  to 
assault,  a  corrupt  heart  to  oppose,  and  many  difficulties  to  be 
encountered,  yet  her  conduct  was  a  demonstration,  that  those 
who  are  heirs  of  the  heavenly  country,  may  choose  and  prosecute 
their  best  interests,  and  improve  the  divine  life  to  a  high  degree. 
"  Let  us,"  she  used  to  say,  "  make  salvation  not  only  a  concern 
on  the  bye,  but  the  governing  aim  through  the  present  life,  and 
we  shall  not  only  live  like  the  primitive  Christians,  but  die  for 
our  holy  faith,  with  more  resolution  than  the  worthies  of  Greece 
and  Rome,  though  death  should  appear  in  all  his  array  of  terrors. 
Neither  adversity  nor  prosperity  could  then  tempt  us  to  drop  a 
grain  of  incense  before  any  idol,  or  commit  any  action  that  dis- 
honoured the  gospel.  Let  what  will  happen,  in  all  events,  we 
should  secure  the  future  happiness  of  our  souls,  and  thereby  pro- 
vide for  the  everlasting  glory  and  felicity  of  our  bodies  too  in  the 
morning  of  the  resurrection.  Of  Mrs.  HARCOURT,  a  further 
account  will  be  found  in  the  Memoirs  of  Several  Ladies  of  Great 
Britain,  1755,  8vo.  p.  324. 

The  twenty-fifth  day  of  June  I  took  my  leave  of  Miss  HARCOURT 
and  her  father,  and  the  rest  of  the  good  company,  and  on  horses 
I  borrowed,  we  returned  to  the  philosophers  at  Ulubrae.  It  was 
nineteen  miles  round  of  most  terrible  road  ;  a  great  part  of  it  being 
deep  and  swampy  bottom,  with  holes  up  to  the  horses  shoulders 
in  some  places  ;  and  for  several  miles,  we  were  obliged  to  ride  on 
the  sides  of  very  deep  and  craggy  mountains,  in  a  path  so  very 
narrow,  that  we  risked  life,  and  passed  in  terror  :  a  wrong  step 
would  have  been  destruction  beyond  recovery.  It  was  likewise 
no  small  perplexity  to  find,  that  I  was  going  back  again,  the  course 
being  south  and  south-west ;  and  that  there  was  no  other  way  of 
journeying  from  Mr.  HARCOURT'S  to  Ulubrae,  but  through  the 
pass  I  first  travelled  from  Westmoreland ;  unless  I  rode  from  Mr. 
HARCOURT'S  into  Cumberland,  and  then  round  through  Bishop- 
rick  to  the  valley  the  gentlemen  lived  in.  On  then  I  went  at  all 
hazards,  and  in  a  tedious  manner  was  forced  to  creep  the  way, 
but  to  make  some  amends,  the  prospects  from  the  hills  were  fine, 
and  things  very  curious  occurred.  Groups  of  crests  of  moun- 
tains appeared  here  and  there,  like  large  cities  with  towers  and 
old  Gothic  edifices,  and  from  caverns  in  their  sides  torrents  of 
water  streamed  out,  and  tumbled  in  various  courses  to  the  most 
delightful  vales  below.  In  some  of  the  vast  hills  there  were  open- 
ings quite  through,  so  as  to  see  the  sun,  at  the  end  of  three  or  four 
thousand  yards  ;  and  in  many  of  them  were  sloping  caverns,  very 
wonderful  to  behold. 


i8o  THE  LIFE  OF 


I  found  in  one  of  them,  near  the  top  of  a  very  high  mountain* 
a  descent  like  steps  of  stairs,  that  was  in  breadth  and  height  like 
the  aisle  of  a  church,  for  three  hundred  yards,  and  then  ended  at  a 
kind  of  door,  or  small  arched  opening,  that  was  high  enough 
for  a  tall  man  to  walk  into  a  grand  room  which  it  led  to.  This 
chamber  was  a  square  of  seventeen  yards,  and  had  an  arched  roof 
about  twenty  high.  The  stone  of  it  was  a  green  marble,  not 
earthy  and  dpaque,  but  pure  and  crystalline,  which  made  it  ap- 
pear very  beautiful,  as  the  walls  were  as  smooth  as  if  the  best 
polish  had  made  them  so.  There  was  another  opening  or  door 
at  the  other  side  of  this  chamber,  and  from  it  likewise  went  a 
descent  like  steps,  but  the  downward  passage  here  was  much 
steeper  than  the  other  I  had  come  to,  and  the  opening  not  more 
than  one  third  as  wide  and  high  ;  narrowing  gradually  to  the 
bottom  of  the  sloping  road,  till  it  ended  in  a  round  hole,  a  yard 
and  a  quarter  every  way.  I  could  see  the  day  at  the  opening 
below,  though  it  seemed  at  a  great  distance  from  me,  and  as  it 
was  not  dangerous  to  descend,  I  determined  to  go  down. 

The  descent  was  four  hundred  and  seventy-nine  yards  in  a 
straight  line,  and  opened  in  a  view  of  meadows,  scattered  trees, 
and  streams,  that  were  enchantingly  fine.  There  appeared  to 
be  about  four  and  twenty  acres  of  fine  land,  quite  surrounded 
with  the  most  frightful  precipices  in  the  world,  and  in  the  centre 
of  it  a  neat  and  pretty  little  country  house,  on  an  easy  rising 
ground.  I  could  discover  with  my  long  glass  a  young  and  hand- 
some woman  sitting  at  the  door,  engaged  in  needle- work  of  some 
kind  ;  and  on  the  margin  of  a  brook  hard  by,  another  charmer 
stood,  angling  for  fish  of  some  sort  :  a  garden  appeared  near  the 
mansion  that  was  well  improved  ;  and  in  the  fields  were  sheep 
and  goats,  horses  and  cows  ;  cocks  and  hens,  ducks  and  geese, 
were  walking  about  the  ground  ;  and  I  could  perceive  a  college 
of  bees.  The  whole  formed  a  charming  scene. 

Pleased  with  the  view,  and  impatient  to  know  who  the  two 
charmers  were,  I  quite  forgot  the  poor  situation  inVhich  I  left  TIM, 
holding  the  horses  at  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  on  the  dangerous 
side  of  so  high  a  hill,  and  proceeded  immediately  to  the  house,  as 
soon  as  I  had  recovered  myself  from  a  fall.  My  foot  slip'd  in  the 
passage,  about  six  yards  from  the  day,  and  I  came  rolling  out  of 
the  mountain  in  a  violent  and  surprising  manner.  It  was  just 
mid-day  when  I  came  up  to  the  ladies,  and  as  they  did  not  see 
me  till  they  chanced  to  turn  round,  they  were  so  amazed  at 
my  appearing,  they  changed  colour,  and  one  of  them  shrieked 
aloud  ;  but  this  fright  was  soon  over,  on  my  assuring  them 
that  I  was  their  most  humble  servant,  and  had  against  my 
will  tumbled  out  of  the  hole  that  was  at  the  bottom  of  that 
vast  mountain  before  them.  This  I  explained,  and  protested 
that  I  had  not  thought  of  paying  them  a  visit,  when  curiosity 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  181 


led  me  into  an  opening  near  the  top  of  the  hill,  as  I  was 
travelling  on  ;  but  that  when  I  did  get  through  so  wonderful  a 
passage,  and  saw  what  was  still  more  strange,  when  I  arrived  in 
the  vale,  to  wit,  two  ladies,  in  so  wild  and  silent  a  place,  I  judged 
it  my  duty  to  pay  my  respects,  and  ask  if  you  had  any  commands 
that  I  could  execute  in  the  world  ?  This  was  polite,  they  said, 
and  gave  me  thanks  ;  but  told  me,  they  had  no  other  favour  to 
ask  than  that  I  would  dine  with  them,  and  inform  them  how  it 
happened  that  I  was  obliged  to  travel  over  these  scarce  passable 
mountains,  where  there  was  no  society  nor  support  to  be  had. 
Beside  if  in  riding  here  you  should  receive  a;mischief ,  there  was  not 
a  possibility  of  getting  any  relief.  There  must  be  something  very 
extraordinary  surely,  that  could  cause  you  to  journey  over  such 
frightful  hills,  and  through  the  deep  bottoms  at  the  foot  of  them 

"  Ladies,"  I  replied,  "  necessity  and  curiosity  united  are  the 
spring  that  move  me  over  these  mountains,  and  enable  me  to 
bear  the  hardships  I  meet  with  in  these  ways.  Forced  from  home 
by  the  cruelties  of  a  step-mother,  and  forsaken  by  my  father  on 
her  account,  I  am  wandering  about  the  precipices  of  Richmond- 
shire  in  search  of  a  gentleman,  my  friend  ;  to  whose  hospitable 
house  and  generous  breast  I  should  be  welcome,  if  I  could  find 
out  where  he  lives  in  some  part  of  this  remote  and  desolate  region  : 
and  as  my  curiosity  is  more  than  ordinary,  and  I  love  to  contem- 
plate the  works  of  nature,  which  are  very  grand  and  astonishing 
in  this  part  of  the  world,  I  have  gone  many  a  mile  out  of  my  way 
while  I  have  been  looking  for  several  days  past  for  my  friend,  and 
have  ventured  into  places  where  very  few  I  believe  would  go.  It 
was  this  taste  for  natural  knowledge  that  travelled  me  down  the 
inside  of  the  mountain  I  am  just  come  out  of.  If  I  had  not  had 
it,  I  should  never  have  known  there  was  so  delightful  a  little 
country  here  as  what  I  now  see  :  nor  should  I  have  had  the  honour 
and  happiness  of  being  known  to  you." 

"  But  tell  me,  Sir,"  one  of  these  beauties  said,  "  how  have  you 
lived  for  several  days  among  these  rocks  and  desert  places,  as 
there  are  no  inns  in  this  country,  nor  a  house,  except  this,  here, 
that  we  know  ?  are  you  the  favourite  of  the  fairies  and  genies,  or 
does  the  wise  man  of  the  hills,  bring  you  every  night  in  a  cloud  to 
his  home  ?  " 

"  It  looks  something  like  it,  Madam,"  I  answered,  "  and  the 
thing  to  be  sure  must  appear  very  strange,  but  it  is  like  other 
strange  things,  when  the  nature  of  them  is  known,  they  appear 
easy  and  plain.  This  country  I  find  consists,  for  the  most  part, 
of  ranges  and  groups  of  mountains  horrible  to  behold,  and  of  bogs, 
deep  swampy  narrow  bottoms,  and  waters  that  fall  and  run  in- 
numerable ways,  but  this  is  not  always  the  case,  like  the  charming 
plain  I  am  now  on,  there  are  many  flowery  and  delicious  extensive 
pieces  of  ground,  enclosed  by  vast  surrounding  hills  ;  the  finest 


1 8a  THE  LIFE  OF 


intervals  betwixt  the  mountains  :  the  sweetest  interchange  be- 
tween hill  and  valley,  I  believe  in  all  the  world,  is  to  be  found  in 
Richmondshire,  and  in  several  of  those  delightful  vales  I  dis- 
covered inhabitants  as  in  this  place,  but  the  houses  are  so  separate 
by  fells  scarcely  passable,  and  torrents  of  water,  that  those  who 
live  in  the  centre  of  one  group  of  mountains,  know  nothing  of 
many  agreeable  inhabitants  that  may  dwell  on  the  other  side  of 
the  hills  in  an  adjacent  vale.  If  there  had  been  a  fine  spot  at  the 
bottom  of  the  precipice  I  found  the  opening  in,  and  people  living 
there,  as  might  have  been  the  case,  you  ladies  who  live  here,  could 
have  no  notion  of  them,  as  you  knew  nothing  of  a  passage  from 
the  foot  to  the  summit  of  yonder  mountain,  within  sight  of  the 
vast  hill,  and  if  you  did,  would  never  venture  to  visit  that  way  ; 
and  as  there  is  not  a  pass  in  this  chain  of  hills,  to  ride  or  walk 
through,  to  the  other  side  of  them  :  but  the  way  out  of  this  valley 
we  are  now  in,  as  I  judge  from  the  trembling  of  the  mountains  all 
round  us,  must  be  an  opening  into  some  part  of  Cumberland.  For 
this  reason  Stanemore  hills  may  have  several  families  among  them, 
though  you  have  never  heard  of  them,  and  I  will  now  give  you  an 
account  of  some,  who  behaved  in  the  most  kind  and  generous 
manner  to  me.  Here  I  began  to  relate  some  particulars  concern- 
ing my  friend  PRICE  and  his  excellent  wife  ;  the  admirable  Mrs. 
BURCOT  and  Mrs.  FLETCHER  ;  the  philosophers  who  lived  at 
Ulubrae,  to  whom  I  was  returning  ;  and  the  generous  Mr.  HAR- 
COURT,  and  his  excellent  daughter,  whom  I  left  in  the  morning  ; 
and  at  whose  house  I  arrived  by  travelling  up  the  dark  bowels  of  a 
tremendous  mountain  ;  as,  on  the  contrary,  I  arrived  at  theirs  by 
a  descent  through  yonder  frightful  hill,  till  I  came  rolling  out  from 
within,  in  a  very  surprising  and  comical  way;  a  way  that  would 
have  made  you  laugh,  ladies  ;  or,  in  a  fright,  cry  out,  if  you  had 
happened  to  be  walking  near  the  hole  or  opening  in  the  bottom  of 
that  hill,  when,  by  a  slip  of  my  foot,  in  descending,  a  few  yards 
from  the  day,  I  tumbled  over  and  over,  not  only  down  what  re- 
mained of  the  dark  steep  within,  but  the  high  sloping  bank  that 
reaches  from  the  outside  of  the  opening  to  the  first  flat  part  of  the 
vale.  There  is  nothing  wonderful  then  in  my  living  in  this  lone 
country  for  so  many  days.  The  only  strange  thing  is,  considering 
the  waters  and  swamps,  that  I  was  not  drowned  ;  or,  on  account 
of  the  precipices  and  descents  I  have  been  engaged  on,  that  I  did 
not  break  my  neck,  or  my  bones ;  but  so  long  we  are  to  live  as 
Providence  hath  appointed  for  the  accomplishment  of  the  grand 
divine  scheme.  Till  the  part  allotted  us  is  acted,  we  are  secure. 
When  it  is  done,  we  must  go,  and  leave  the  stage  for  other  players 
to  come  on." 

The  ladies  seemed  greatly  entertained  with  my  histories,  and 
especially  with  my  tumbling  out  of  the  mountain  into  their  vale. 
They  laughed  very  heartily  ;  but  told  me,  if  they  had  happened 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ- 


to  be  sitting  near  the  hole,  in  the  bottom  of  that  tremendous  rocky 
mountain,  as  they  sometimes  did,  and  often  wondered  where  the 
opening  went  to,  and  that  I  had  come  rolling  down  upon  them, 
they  would  have  been  frightened  out  of  their  senses,  for  they  must 
have  thought  it  a  very  strange  appearance  ;  without  hearing  the 
history  of  it,  they  must  think  it  a  prodigious  occurrence,  or  excep- 
tion, from  the  constant  affairs  of  nature. 

"  This  might  be,  ladies,"  I  answered,  "  but  from  seeing  me  be- 
fore your  eyes  you  must  own,  that  many  things  may  be  fact,  which 
at  first  may  seem  to  exceed  the  common  limits  of  truth.  Impos- 
sible or  supernatural  some  people  conclude  many  cases  to  be  that 
have  not  the  least  difficulty  in  them,  but  happen  to  be  made  of 
occurrences  and  places  they  have  not  seen,  nor  heard  the  like  of 
before.  Things  thought  prodigious  or  incredible  by  ignorance  and 
weakness,  will  appear  to  right  knowledge  and  a  due  judgment  very 
natural  and  accountable  to  the  thoughts." 

Here  a  footman  came  up  to  us,  to  let  his  mistress  know  that 
dinner  was  on  the  table,  and  we  immediately  went  in  to  an  excel- 
lent one.  The  ladies  were  very  civil  to  me,  and  exerted  a  good 
humour  to  shew  me,  I  suppose,  that  my  arrival  was  not  disagree- 
able to  them,  though  I  tumbled  upon  their  habitation,  like  the 
genie  of  the  caverns,  from  the  hollows  of  the  mountains.  They 
talked  in  an  easy,  rational  manner,  and  asked  me  many  questions 
that  shewed  they  were  no  strangers  to  books  and  men  and  things  : 
but  at  last  it  came  to  pass,  that  the  eldest  of  those  ladies,  who 
acted  as  mistress  of  the  house  and  seemed  to  be  about  one  or  two 
and  twenty,  desired  to  know  the  name  of  the  gentleman  I  was 
looking  for  among  these  hills,  and  called  my  friend.  "  My  reason, 
Sir,  for  asking  is,  that  you  answer  so  exactly  in  face  and  person 
to  a  description  of  a  gentleman  I  heard  not  very  long  ago,  that  I 
imagine  it  may  be  in  my  power  to  direct  you  right." 

"  Madam,"  I  replied,  "  the  gentleman  I  am  in  search  of  is 
CHARLES  TURNER,  who  was  my  school-fellow,  and  my  senior  by  a 
year  in  the  university,  which  he  left  two  years  before  I  did,  and 
went  from  Dublin  to  the  North  of  England,  to  inherit  a  paternal 
estate  on  the  decease  of  his  father.  There  was  an  uncommon 
friendship  between  this  excellent  young  man  and  me,  and  he  made 
me  promise  him,  in  a  solemn  manner,  to  call  upon  him  as  soon  as 
it  was  in  my  power  ;  assuring  me  at  the  same  time,  that  if  by  any 
changes  and  chances  in  this  lower  hemisphere,  I  was  ever  brought 
into  any  perplexities,  and  he  alive,  I  should  be  welcome  to  him  and 
what  he  had,  and  share  in  his  happiness  in  this  world,  while  I 
pleased.  This  is  the  man  I  want,  a  man,  for  his  years,  one  of  the 
wisest  and  best  of  the  race.  His  honest  heart  had  no  design  in 
words.  He  ever  spoke  what  he  means,  and  therefore,  I  am  sure 
he  is  my  friend." 

To  this  the  lady  answered,  "  Sir,  since  CHARLES  TURNER  is  the 


1 84  THE  T.IFE  OF 


man  you  want,  your  enquiry  is  at  an  end,  for  you  are  now  at  his 
house  ;  and  I,  who  am  his  sister,  bid  you  welcome  to  Skelsmore- 
Vale  in  his  name.  He  has  been  for  a 'year  and  a  half  last  past  in 
Italy,  and  a  little  before  he  went,  gave  me  such  a  description  of 
you  as  enabled  me  to  guess  who  you  were  after  I  had  looked  a 
while  at  you,  and  he  added  to  his  description  a  request  to  me,  that 
if  you  should  happen  to  call  here,  while  I  happened  to  be  in  the 
country,  that  I  would  receive  you,  as  if  you  were  himself  ;  and 
when  I  removed,  if  I  could  not,  or  did  not  choose  to  stay  longer  in 
the  country  that  I  would  make  you  an  offer  of  the  house,  and  give 
you  up  all  the  keys  of  it,  to  make  use  of  it  and  his  servants,  and 
the  best  things  the  place  affords,  till  his  return  ;  which  is  to  be,  he 
says,  in  less  than  a  year.  Now,  Sir,  in  regard  to  my  brother  and 
his  friend,  I  not  only  offer  you  what  he  desired  I  should,  but  I  will 
stay  a  month  here  longer  than  I  intended  ;  for  this  lady,  my 
cousin,  MARTHA  JACQUELOT,  and  I,  had  determined  to  go  to  Scar- 
borough next  week,  and  from  thence  to  London  :  nor  is  this  all, 
as  I  know  I  shall  the  more  oblige  my  brother  the  civiller  I  am  to 
you,  I  will,  when  the  Scarborough  season  is  over,  if  you  choose  to 
spend  the  winter  here,  come  back  to  Skelsmore-Vale,  and  stay  till 
Mr.  TURNER  returns." 

This  discourse  astonished  me  to  the  last  degree,  to  hear  that  I 
was  at  my  friend  TURNER'S  house,  he  abroad,  and  to  be  so  for 
another  year  ;  the  possession  of  his  seat  offered  me  ;  and  his 
charming  sister  so  very  civil  and  good,  as  to  assure  me  she  would 
return  from  the  Spa,  and  stay  with  me  till  her  brother  came  home  : 
were  things  so  unexpected  and  extraordinary,  that  I  was  for  some 
time  silent,  and  at  a  loss  what  to  say.  I  paused  for  some  minutes, 
with  my  eyes  fastened  on  this  beauty,  and  then  said  "  Miss  TUR- 
NER, the  account  you  have  given  of  your  brother,  and  the  infor- 
mation that  I  am  now  at  his  house,  his  friendly  offers  to  me  by  you , 
and  your  prodigious  civility,  in  resolving  to  return  from  Scar- 
borough to  stay  with  me  here  till  your  brother  arrives,  are  things 
so  strange,  so  uncommon,  and  exceedingly  generous  and  kind,  that 
I  am  quite  amazed  at  what  I  hear,  and  want  words  to  express  my 
obligations,  and  the  grateful  sense  I  have  of  such  favours.  Accept 
my  thanks,  and  be  assured,  that  while  I  live,  I  shall  properly  re- 
member the  civility  and  benevolence  of  this  day  ;  and  be  ever 
ready  if  occasion  offered,  and  the  fates  should  put  it  in  my  power, 
to  make  a  due  return.  Your  offer,  Madam,  in  particular,  is  so 
high  an  honour  done  me,  and  shews  a  spirit  so  humane,  as  I  told 
you  I  was  an  unfortunate  one,  that  I  shall  ever  think  of  it,  with 
pleasure,  and  mention  it  as  a  rare  instance  of  female  worth  ;  but 
as  to  accepting  these  most  kind  offers  I  cannot  do  it.  Since  Mr. 
TURNER  is  from  home,  I  will  go  and  visit  another  friend  I  have  in 
this  country,  to  whom  I  shall  be  welcome,  I  believe,  till  your 
brother  returns.  To  live  by  myself  here  at  my  friend's  expence, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  185 

would  not  be  right,  nor  agreeable  to  me  :  and  as  to  confining  you, 
Madam,  in  staying  with  me,  I  would  not  do  it  for  the  world." 
"  Sir,"  Miss  TURNER  replied,  "  in  respect  of  my  staying  here,  it 
will  be  no  confinement  to  me,  I  assure  you.  My  heart  is  not  set 
upon  going  to  London.  It  was  only  want  of  company  made  Miss 
JACQUELOT  and  me  think  of  it,  and  if  you  will  stay  with  us,  we  will 
not  even  go  to  Scarborough  this  season."  This  was  goodness 
indeed,  but  against  staying  longer  than  two  or  three  days,  I  had 
many  good  reasons  that  made  it  necessary  for  me  to  depart  :  be- 
side the  unreasonableness  of  my  being  an  expense  to  Mr.  TURNER 
in  his  absence,  or  confining  his  sister  to  the  country  ;  there  was 
Orton- Lodge,  where  I  had  left  O'FiN,  my  lad,  at  work,  to  which  I 
could  not  avoid  going  again  :  and  there  was  Miss  MELMOTH,  on 
whom  I  had  promised  to  wait,  and  did  intend  to  ask  her  if  she 
would  give  me  her  hand,  as  I  liked  her  and  her  circumstances,  and 
fancied  she  would  live  with  me  in  any  retreat  I  pleased  to  name  ; 
which  was  a  thing  that  would  be  most  pleasing  to  my  mind.  It  is 
true,  if  CHARLES  TURNER  had  come  home,  while  I  stayed  at  his 
house,  it  was  possible  I  might  have  got  his  sister,  who  was  a  very 
great  fortune  :  but  this  was  an  uncertainty  however,  and  in  his 
absence,  I  could  not  in  honour  make  my  addresses  to  her  :  if  it 
should  be  against  his  mind,  it  would  be  acting  a  false  part,  while  I 
was  eating  his  bread.  Miss  TURNER  to  be  sure  had  fifty  thousand 
pounds  at  her  own  disposal,  and  so  far  as  I  could  judge  of  her 
mind,  during  the  three  days  that  I  stayed  with  her  at  Skelsmore- 
Vale,  I  had  some  reason  to  imagine  her  heart  might  be  gained  : 
but  for  a  man  worth  nothing  to  do  this,  in  her  brother's  house 
without  his  leave,  was  a  part  I  could  not  act,  though  by  missing 
her  I  had  been  brought  to  beg  my  bread.  Three  days  then  only 
I  could  be  prevailed  on  to  stay,  and  the  time  indeed  was  happily 
spent. 

Miss  TURNER  was  good-humoured,  sensible,  and  discreet,  as  one 
could  wish  a  woman  to  be,  talked  pleasantly  upon  common  sub- 
jects, and  was  well  acquainted  with  the  three  noblest  branches  of 
polite  learning,  antiquity,  history,  and  geography.  It  was  a  fine 
entertainment  to  hear  her.  She  likewise  understood  music,  and 
sung,  and  played  well  on  the  small  harpsicord  ;  but  her  moral 
character  shed  the  brightest  lustre  on  her  soul.  Her  thoughts 
and  words  were  ever  employed  in  promoting  God's  glory,  her 
neighbour's  benefit,  and  her  own  true  welfare  ;  and  her  hand  very 
often,  in  giving  to  the  poor.  One  third  of  her  fine  income  she 
devoted  to  the  miserable,  and  was  in  every  respect  so  charitable, 
that  She  never  indulged  the  least  intemperance  in  speaking.  She 
detested  that  calumny  and  reproach  which  assassinates  a  credit, 
as  much  as  she  abhorred  the  shedding  a  man's  blood.  The  good- 
ness of  her  heart  was  great  indeed  :  the  integrity  of  her  life  was 
glorious.  She  was  perfection,  so  far  as  the  thing  is  consistent  with 


1 86  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  nature  and  state  of  man  here,  as  it  was  possible  for  a  mortal 
to  be  exempt  from  blame  in  life,  and  blemish  of  soul.  An  abso- 
lute exemption  from  faults  cannot  be  the  condition  of  any  one  in 
this  world  :  But,  to  the  ladies  I  now  speak,  you  may,  like  Miss 
TURNER,  be  eminently  good,  if  you  will  do  your  best  to  be  perfect, 
in  such  a  kind  and  degree  as  human  frailty  doth  admit. 

Miss  JACQUELOT  was  by  the  head  lower  than  Miss  TURNER,  and 
her  hair  the  very  reverse  of  my  friend's  sister,  that  is,  black  as  the 
raven  ;  but  she  had  a  most  charming  little  person,  and  a  mind 
adorned  with  the  finest  qualifications.  Reason  never  lost  the 
command  in  her,  nor  ceased  to  have  an  influence  upon  whatever 
she  did.  It  secured  her  mind  from  being  ever  discomposed,  and 
disengaged  her  life  from  the  inconveniencies  which  a  disregard  to 
reason  exposes  us  to.  By  a  management  it  dictated,  she  enjoyed 
perpetual  innocence  and  peace.  She  never  uttered  a  word  that 
intrenched  upon  piety,  infringed  charity,  or  disturbed  the  happi- 
ness of  any  one,  nor  at  any  time  shewed  the  least  sign  of  a  vein 
and  light  spirit  :  yet  she  had  a  sportfulness  of  wit  and  fancy  that 
was  delightful,  when  she  could  handsomely  and  innocently  use  it, 
and  loved  to  exert  the  sallies  of  wit  in  a  lepid  way,  when  they  had 
no  tendency  to  defile  or  discompose  her  mind,  to  wrong  or  harm 
the  hearer,  or  her  neighbour,  or  to  violate  any  of  the  grand  duties 
incumbent  on  us  ;  piety,  charity,  justice,  and  sobriety.  Every 
thing  that  reason  made  unfit  to  be  expressed,  in  relation  to  these 
virtues,  she  always  carefully  avoided  ;  but  otherwise,  such  things 
excepted,  would  enliven  and  instruct  by  good  sense  in  jocular  ex- 
pression, in  a  way  the  most  charming  and  pleasing.  She  was  very 
wise,  agreeable  and  happy.  She  was  very  good  and  worthy. 

This  young  lady  was  a  great  master  on  the  fiddle,  and  very 
knowing  in  connoisance.  She  painted  well,  and  talked  in  an  aston- 
ishing manner,  for  a  woman,  and  for  her  years,  of  pictures, 
sculpture,  and  medals.  She  was  indeed  a  fine  creature  in  soul  and 
body. 

With  these  ladies  I  spent  three  days  in  Skelsmore-Vale  ;  and 
the  time  we  talked,  walked,  played,  and  laughed  away.  Some- 
times we  rambled  about  the  hills,  and  low  adown  the  dales.  Some- 
times we  sat  to  serious  ombre  ;  and  often  went  to  music  by  the 
falling-streams.  Miss  TURNER  sung,  Miss  JACQUELOT  played  the 
fiddle,  and  on  my  German  flute  I  breathed  the  softest  airs.  We 
were  a  happy  three,  and  parted  with  regret  on  every  side.  Fain 
would  they  have  had  me  stay,  and  Scarborough  and  London 
should  be  thought  of  no  more;  but  the  reason  of  things  was 
against  it,  and  the  28th  day  of  June  I  took  my  leave.  Through 
the  mountain  I  had  descended,  I  went  up  again  to  TIM  and  my 
horses  ;  who  were  stabled  in  the  mouth  of  the  cavern  above,  and 
had  got  provender  from  the  vale  below. 

The  sun  was  rising  as  we  mounted  the  horses,  and  struck  me  so 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQt  187 

powerfully  with  the  surpassing  splendour  and  majesty  of  its  ap- 
pearance, so  cheered  me  by  the  gladsome  influences,  and  intimate 
refreshment  of  its  all-enlivening  beams,  that  I  was  contriving  an 
apology  as  I  rode  on,  for  the  first  adorers  of  the  solar  orb,  and 
imagined  they  intended  nothing  more  than  the  worship  of  the 
transcendent  majesty  of  the  invisible  Creator,  under  the  symbol 
of  his  most  excellent  and  nearly  resembling  creature  ;  and  this 
according  to  some  imperfect  tradition,  that  man,  as  a  compound 
Being,  had,  in  the  beginning,  a  visible  glorious  presence  of  Jehovah 
Elohim,  a  visible  exhibition  of  a  more  distinguished  presence  by 
an  inexpressible  brightness  or  glory :  this  is  some  excuse  for  the 
first  worshippers  of  the  solar  orb  :  and  when  the  thing  consecrated 
to  the  imagery  and  representation  of  its  Maker,  became  the  rival 
of  his  honours,  and  from  being  a  help  to  devotion,  was  advanced 
into  the  supreme  object  of  it ;  yet  considering  the  prodigious  glory 
of  this  moving  orb,  and  that  all  animated  nature  depends  upon  its 
auspicious  presence,  we  cannot  wonder  that  the  Egyptian  rura- 
lists,  without  a  creed,  and  without  a  philosophy,  should  be  tempted 
to  some  warmer  emotion  than  a  merely  speculative  admiration, 
and  inclined  to  something  of  immediate  devotion.  That  universal 
chorus  of  joy  that  is  manifested  at  the  illustrious  solemnities  of 
opening  sunshine,  might  tempt  the  weak  to  join  in  a  seemingly- 
religious  acclamation.  At  least  I  am  sure  there  is  much  more  to 
be  said  for  this  species  of  idolatry,  than  for  the  papists  worshipping 
dead  men,  stocks,  bones,  and  clouts.  They  have  not  only  reve- 
lation expressly  against  them — "  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord 
thy  God,  and  him  only  shalt  thou  serve."  Matt.  ch.  iv.  v.  10. — 
"  Neither  shalt  thou  set  up  any  image  or  pillar."  Deut.  ch.  xvi. 
v.  22.  But  downright  reason  demonstrates  that  the  things  are 
useless  to  the  preservers,  and  offensive  to  God  ;  whereas  on  the 
contrary,  when  the  eye  beholds  that  glorious  and  important  lumin- 
ary of  heaven,  and  considers  the  benefits  dispensed  to  mankind 
by  the  means  of  its  most  beautiful  and  invigorating  beams,  it 
might  strike  not  only  an  unpractised  thinker,  and  cause  the  vulgar 
who  are  not  able  of  themselves  to  raise  their  thoughts  above  their 
senses,  and  frame  a  notion  of  an  invisible  Deity,  to  acknowledge 
the  blessings  they  received,  by  a  devotion  to  this  fancied  visible 
exhibition  of  divinity.  But  even  some  of  the  wise  ones  who  were 
a  degree  above  the  absurdity  of  popular  thinking,  might  be  led  to 
address  themselves  to  the  golden  sun,  in  splendour  likest  heaven, 
They  might  ascribe  the  origin  of  their  own  existance,  and  the 
world's,  to  this  seemingly  adequate  cause,  and  genial  power  of  the 
system ;  when  they  beheld  him  returning  again  in  the  east,  as  I 
now  see  him,  after  the  gloom  and  sadness  of  the  night ;  again  the 
restorer  of  light  and  comfort,  and  the  renewer  of  the  world  ;  re- 
gent of  the  day,  and  all  the  horizon  round,  invested  with  bright 
rays  ;  that  all  inferior  nature,  the  earth's  own  form,  and  the  sup- 


1 88  THE  LIFE  OF 


ports  of  its  animated  inhabitants,  seem  to  depend  on  his  dispensing 
authority,  and  to  be  the  effects  of  his  prolific  virtue,  and  secret 
operation  :  they  might  suppose,  in  the  corruption  of  tradition, 
or  when  the  revealed  truth  and  direction  was  lost,  and  reason  not 
as  now  in  its  maturity  of  age  and  observation,  that  some  kind  of 
glory  should  be  given  to  the  subordinate  divinity,  as  they  fancied, 
of  this  heavenly  body,  and  that  some  homage  was  due  to  the  foun- 
tain of  so  much  warmth  and  beneficence.  This,  I  imagine,  may 
account  for  the  earliest  kind  of  idolatry  ;  the  worship  paid  to  the 
sun.  The  effects  of  his  presence  are  so  great,  and  his  splendour  so 
overpowering  and  astonishing,  that  veneration  and  gratitude 
united,  might  seduce  those  ignorant  mortals  to  deify  so  glorious 
an  object.  When  they  had  lost  the  guard  of  traditionary  reve- 
lation,* and  wanted  those  helps  to  judgment  which  are  derived 

*  When  the  tribes  went  off  from  Noah  in  Peleg's  days,  in  the  »ra  of  the  deluge  240,  that 
is,  so  many  years  after  the  flood,  we  must  in  reason  suppose,  that  they  had  from  the  venerable 
patriarch,  a  final  and  farewell  relation  of  the  creation,  and  the  state  of  innocency,  and  the 
fall ;  the  institution  of  worship  ;  and  the  hope  of  acceptance,  and  the  promised  seed.  We 
may  believe  they  had,  at  going  off,  a  distinct  repetition  of  all  the  capital  articles  of  their  faith . 
They  received  a  clear  review  of  the  facts  and  revelations  which  Adam  and  Noah  had  the 
knowledge  of,  and  in  a  compend  of  every  doctrine  and  duty,  speculative  and  practical,  especi- 
ally the  doctrine  of  the  being  of  a  God,  his  unity  and  perfections,  had  a  sufficient  fund  of 
useful  knowledge  to  set  up  with,  in  the  new  world.  This  is  natural  behaviour  in  all  good 
parents,  and  we  may  conclude,  that  the  pious  patriarch  acted  in  this  manner,  when  he  sent 
his  relations  away.  But  this  oral  tradition  was  liable  to  a  gradual  declension,  and  sunk  at 
last  into  a  state  of  evanescence.  Doctrines  deduced  from  facts  long  since  past,  and  known 
by  tradition  only,  become  precarious.  The  tradition  is  rendered  obscure  and  dubious.  It 
might  remain  nearly  perfect,  while  Peleg,  Reu,  Serug,  Nahor,  and  Terah  lived,  as  they  had 
their  informations  from  Noah,  and  were  thoroughly  advised  to  make  God  the  object  of  their 
supreme  love  and  fear,  and  trust  and  worship  ;  and  to  practise  all  virtue  and  righteousness 
towards  each  other,  as  the  great  instruments  and  means  of  a  general  happiness.  With  an 
earnest  tenderness,  these  things  were  recommended  to  them.  But  as  the  people  who  came 
after  them  never  saw  Noah,  and  their  information  depended  on  relators,  who  had  it  from 
relators,  a  dimness  prevailed  upon  the  ancient  facts,  and  distance  and  other  objects  over- 
shadowed them.  A  deprivation  of  tradition  might  likewise  arise  from  relators  forgetting 
material  circumstances,  and  from  a  misapprehension  of  ancient  facts.  There  might  likewise 
be  many  that  designedly  corrupted  these  facts,  and  out  of  a  dislike  to  truth,  and  a  distaste 
to  virtue,  did  their  best  to  weaken  the  principles  of  religion.  Ingenious  bad  men  there  were 
among  mankind  then  as  well  as  in  our  time,  and  as  there  was  no  written  system  and  history 
to  go  by,  they  might  give  the  ancient  story  a  turn  more  favourable  to  sinners.  By  this  means 
contradiction  and  obscurity  came  on,  endless  fables  were  introduced,  and  truth  was  disguised, 
corrupted  and  lost. 

In  respect  however  of  an  infinite  mind,  the  author  of  the  universe,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  those  men  could  not  have  lost  a  right  notion  of  him,  if  they  had  been  faithful  to  them- 
selves ;  for  the  works  of  nature  still  remained  in  all  their  wond'rous  beauty,  and  useful  order, 
and  furnished  daily  evidence,  that  neither  chance,  nor  undesigning  necessity,  could  produce 
the  beautiful  and  harmonious,  the  regular  and  convenient,  the  amiable  and  good,  which  their 
eyes  beheld  whatever  way  they  turned.  Not  only  the  heavens,  the  air,  the  earth,  the  sea, 
demonstrated  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God  ;  but  every  beast  , every  fowl,  every  fish  they 
could  take,  every  plant  and  tree,  shewed  an  exact  proportion  of  parts,  and  discovered  design 
in  the  whole  of  its  constitution.  Their  own  intelligence  ought  likewise  to  have  led  them  to 
the  great  original  it  was  formed  by,  an  uncreated  mind.  There  must  be  a  divine  understand- 
ing, or  there  never  could  be  pure  intellection  in  man.  It  is  impossible  to  solve  the  phaeno- 
mena  of  moral  entities,  without  the  being  of  God.  If  it  were  possible  for  atoms,  rencont'r- 
ing  in  an  infinite  void,  to  produce  by  collision  and  undirected  impulse,  the  corporeal  systems, 
and  the  various  beauteous  forms  which  we  see ;  yet  the  wild  and  senseless  hypothesis  could 
not  be  applied  by  atheism  itself  to  the  production  of  ideas  intirely  independent  of  matter, 
and  all  its  properties  and  powers.  We  must  have  them  from  an  intelligent  cause.  The 
human  mind  is  so  framed,  that  we  may  surely  infer  the  cause  of  the  constitution  was  intelli- 
gent. So  that  God  did  not  in  any  age,  leave  himself  without  witness,  or  evidence,  of  his  own 
being  and  perfection.  We  have  full  proof  of  creating,  ruling  intelligence.  All  the  works 
of  nature  proclaim  it,  and  especially  the  human  soul. 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  189 


from  the  experience,  observation,  and  reasoning  of  past  times, 
the  specious  idolatry  might  have  been  introduced,  and  something 
tolerably  plausible  perhaps  was  pleaded  by  the  better  heads  of 
those  times.  Exclusive  of  an  imperfect  notion  of  the  Deity's 
appearing  by  shechinah,  and  that  the  sun  might  be  the  visible  ex- 
hibition as  before  observed  ;  they  might,  in  the  next  place,  con- 
clude from  the  extraordinary  motion  of  the  luminary,  that  he  was 
an  animated  being  and  noble  intelligence,  placed  in  the  highest 
post  of  honour  and  usefulness,  and  employed  by  God  as  his  first 
minister  and  servant ;  for  which  reason,  they  thought  it  their 
duty  to  magnify  and  venerate  the  sun,  whom  the  Creator  had  ex- 
alted so  high  ;  as  the  chief  minister  of  kings  are  had  in  honour, 
which  is  reflected  back  on  their  royal  masters.  Thus  might  the 
novel  impiety  come  on.  They  might,  in  the  beginning,  worship 
the  sun  as  the  shechinah,  appearing  by  a  glorious  light,  or  in  a 
celestial  train  attending  the  presence,  which,  at  so  great  a  distance, 
must  appear  in  an  indistinct,  luminous  vision  ;  but  more  generally 
as  the  minister  of  God  ;  an  animated  being,  who  had  a  principle 
of  consciousness  put  into  it ;  as  the  human  body  has,  seated  in  it, 
a  human  soul ;  and  that  this?  glorious  creature  was  enabled  to 
perform  the  etherial  journeys  by  its  own  understanding  and  will, 
and  to  make  all  lower  nature  happy  by  his  benign  and  diffusive 
influence  ;  could  see  as  far  as  he  is  seen,  and  every  way  was  fitted 
for  the  noble  work  he  had  to  execute.  Thus  did  the  sun  commence 

But  through  negligence,  and  false  notions  of  religion  brought  iu  by  impious  men,  corrupt 
customs,  and  prejudices  of  education,  we  find  that  not  only  virtue  was  lost,  soon  after  the 
dispersion,  but  even  the  notion  of  God.  Idolatry  and  wickedness  prevailed  for  the  greatest 
part  of  the  grand  period  of  tradition,  from  the  dispersion  to  the  imparting  the  knowledge  of 
letters  by  Moses.  This  shews  the  folly,  vanity,  and  inconsistency  of  all  tradition,  and  that 
for  the  support  of  virtue,  and  true  religion  in  the  world,  a  written  word  is  necessary.  In 
the  early  ages  of  the  postdiluvian  world,  religious  knowledge  was  decayed,  and  we  can  trace 
the  origin  and  beginning  of  idolatry  very  high.  Even  in  Serug's  time,  who  had  received  a 
compend  of  religion  from  Noah,  when  he  became  infirm  by  years,  and  was  no  longer  able  to 
inspect  the  manners  of  his  colony,  and  go  about  to  take  cognizance  of  their  irregularities, 
we  find  the  innovation  had  begun.  We  read  in  the  books,  that  Terah,  the  father  of  Abraham 
was  an  idolater,  in  the  i7oth  year  of  his  age,  which  was  the  year  that  Serug  died,  and  to  be 
sure,  that  was  not  the  first  year  of  his  false  religion  :  and  it  is  not  to  be  supposed,  that  when 
he  went  forth,  a  worshipper  of  false  gods,  from  Ur  of  the  Chaldees,  with  Abraham,  his  son, 
and  Lot,  that  the  young  people  were  safe  from  the  infection.  It  prevailed  before  Abraham 
was  warned  to  withdraw,  and  of  consequence  he  was  one  of  the  ungodly,  that  is  an  idolater, 
To  me  it  is  plain  St.  Paul  says  so.  They  all  served  other  gods.  In  all  probability,  that  was 
beginning  to  be  the  case  when  Abraham  was  born,  which  was  in  the  year  after  the  flood  352  ; 
and  as  he  was  forty  years  old  when  his  father  marched  him  from  Ur,  we  may  think  he  was 
then  a  settled  idolater  ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  that  the  divine  mercy  called  him  by  revelation 
to  true  religion,  he  and  the  whole  world  might  have  remained  in  their  gross  innovation,  eternal 
strangers  to  the  original  truths.  The  free  grace  of  the  universal  Father  took  him  and  his 
posterity  into  covenant,  and  used  them  as  a  mean  to  restore  true  piety  and  virtue  to  the  world, 
till  such  time  as  he  was  pleased  to  shew  his  astonishing  mercy,  and  inestimable  love  in  Christ 
Jesus.  The  Creator  and  Governor  of  Gentiles  as  well  as  Jews,  in  his  infinite  wisdom  pro- 
ceeded in  this  manner,  first  selecting  one  nation  to  be  a  beacon  upon  a  hill,  a  public  voucher 
of  the  being  and  providence  of  God  ;  and  in  the  fulness  of  time,  blessing  the  human  race  with 
a  gospel  and  Redeemer.  Adored  be  his  goodness  then  for  the  written  word.  This  only  can 
preserve  the  doctrine  of  religion  free  from  corruption.  The  miserable  papists  may  trust  to 
their  traditions,  and  wander  where  no  covenant  is  to  be  found  :  but  the  religion  of  protestants 
must  be  the  gospel  of  Christ.  The  written  doctrine  of  the  apostles  let  us.receive.  The  un- 
written word  of  Rome  let  us  despise,  There  is  no  security  in  tradition.  It  is  unsufficient  for 
the  preservation  of  truth  :  and  for  that  reason,  God  gave  us  the  writings  of  inspired  men. 


190  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  God.  He  must,  they  thought,  from  every  appearance,  in  his 
wond'rous,  useful  course,  have  the  most  exalted  powers  ;  be  wise 
and  benevolent,  great  and  good.  And  when  the  worship  of  this 
luminary  was  once  established,  it  could  not  be  long  before  the 
moon  was  deified,  and  then  the  stars  became  conservators  of  the 
universe.  From  thence  idolatry  went  on,  and  added  to  the  hea- 
venly bodies  the  emblematic  doctrine,  and  animal  apotheosis. 
Artificial  fire  was  consecrated,  and  made  the  symbol  of  sidereal 
splendours.  Deity  was  exhibited  to  the  multitude  in  the  forms 
of  its  effects,  and  innumerable  orders  of  inferior  divinities  by  de- 
grees sprang  up.  Successive  enlargements  of  the  system  of  na- 
tural apotheosis  prevailed  ;  and,  at  last,  the  world,  which  ought 
only  to  have  been  regarded,  as  the  magnificent  theatre  of  divine 
perfections,  was  itself  blasphemously  adored,  as  the  independent 
proprietor  of  them. 

It  is  evident  from  hence  that  a  revealed  rule  was  wanting,  or 
man  had  need  of  physics,  to  suppress  the  rising  transports  of  a  too 
eager  gratitude,  and  guard  against  the  inclination  to  worship  this 
rising,  lucid  being,  now  so  glorious  before  me  ;  whose  motion  is  so 
steady  and  uniform,  swift,  regular,  and  useful,  that  it  seems  to 
manifest  itself  a  wise  and  intelligent  being.  Without  the  lights 
of  philosophers,  or  the  supernatural  assistance  of  religion,  it  was 
hard  for  recent  and  wondering  mortals,  to  refrain  from  worship- 
ping that  beautiful  body,  as  they  saw  it  proceeded  with  the  great- 
est harmony,  and  shed  innumerable  blessings  on  them.  But  pure 
revealed  religion  diffuses  such  a  light  as  manifests  the  error  :  and 
a  correct  and  philosophic  reasoning,  in  this  improved  age  the  safe 
guide,  and  proper  arbitrator  of  religion,  not  only  refuses  to  address 
itself  to  that  God  of  the  ancient  popular  theology,  but  proves  the 
worship  impious  and  absurd. 

Right,  reason,  and  revelation,  demonstrate  from  the  matchless 
graces  and  glories  of  nature,  which  occur  in  great  variety,  and 
without  number,  wherever  we  turn  our  eyes,  that  there  is  a 
Creator  of  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness  ;  who  bountifully 
provides  for  the  uses  and  occasions  of  human  life,  and  produces 
repeated  millions  of  objects  that  bear  the  stamp  of  omnipotence, 
and  remain  perpetual  monuments  of  the  divine  benevolence. 
Manifold  are  thy  works,  O  Lord  ;  in  wisdom  hast  thou  made 
them  all ! 

And  especially,  when  from  the  earth  I  lift  up  mine  eyes  to  the 
heavens,  and  behold  among  the  wonders  of  the  firmament  that 
vast  and  magnificent  orb,  the  sun  now  rising  before  me,  bright' ning 
by  degrees  the  horizon,  and  pouring  the  whole  flood  of  day  upon 
us  ;  the  wonderful  and  grand  scene  strikes  powerfully  on  my 
mind,  and  causes  an  awful  impression.  With  sentiments  of  the 
greatest  admiration,  I  consider  the  illustrious  object,  and  feellthe 
kindly  heat  of  that  bright  luminary,  inspiring  me  with  more  than 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


usual  gladness.  And  what  power  is  it  that  supplies  this  fountain 
of  light  and  heat,  with  his  genial  and  inexhausted  treasure,  who 
dispenses  it  with  such  munificent,  yet  wise  profusion  ?  It  must 
be  some  Almighty  Being.  It  must  be  the  work  of  the  Deity,  that 
is,  the  powerful,  wise,  and  good  parent  of  mankind,  the  Maker, 
Preserver,  and  Ruler  of  the  world  ;  for  his  perfections  are  stamp'  d 
upon  the  work.  The  evidence  of  reason  declares  it.  Chance  or 
necessity  cannot  form  or  guide.  An  active  understanding  only, 
and  intending  cause,  can  produce,  and  direct  :  and  this  cause, 
must  be  all-ruling  wisdom,  and  unlimited  power,  in  conjunction 
with  the  most  amiable  goodness.  This  is  plain  to  a  thorough  and 
rational  examination.  A  supreme  Being,  an  eternal  self-existent 
mind,  who  comprehends  and  presides  over  all,  must  impart  the 
benefits  of  that  glorious  creature  before  me,  using  it  as  an  inani- 
mate, unconscious,  instrument  of  conveying  light,  heat,  and 
prolific  influence  to  the  earth  ;  which,  by  infinite  power,  is 
rendered  as  much  active  in  sending  the  vegete  juices  through  the 
vessels  of  all  plants,  as  the  sun  is  in  diffusing  its  rays  upon  the 
surface  of  the  globe  we  inhabit.  The  sun,  and  moon,  and  stars, 
are  but  instruments  in  his  hand,  for  bringing  about  mechanically 
whatever  good  effects  he  has  created  them  to  produce.  Our  holy 
religion  and  philosophic  reasoning  evince  this  truth.  This  glorious 
sun  bears  the  signatures  of  its  author,  and  the  finger  of  God  is 
discernible  every  where.  The  wisdom  and  loving-kindness  of  the 
Lord  are  visible,  whatever  way  we  turn.  His  bounty  appears  by 
its  constant,  yet  voluntary  communication,  and  is  the  more  to  be 
admired  as  it  is  a  never-failing  principle.  This  rising  luminary 
that  visits  our  earth,  is,  in  particular,  a  daily  fresh  instance  of 
the  divine  favor  ;  and  did  not  God's  goodness  only,  prevent  its 
suspension,  we  should  be  involved  in  the  utmost  horror,  nay,  in- 
evitable ruin,  and  when,  in  the  evening  it  leaves  us  overspread  by 
the  darkness,  to  visit  others  with  its  benign  influences  ;  the  change 
is  charming,  for  night  gives  man  a  necessary  vacation  from  the 
labours  of  the  day.  In  sleep  he  takes  the  sweetest  refreshment 
till  this  rising  sun,  by  the  beneficent  direction  of  its  great  Author, 
again  appears  in  grace  and  splendor,  and  displays  the  face  of 
nature  in  unspeakable  beauties.  Every  where  the  bounty  of  the 
supreme  Spirit  I  see  diffused  ;  through  air,  through  earth,  and 
in  the  waters.  No  place  is  without  witnesses  of  his  liberality  ; 
and  life  is  the  care  of  his  providence. 

Of  him  then  should  our  songs  be,  and  our  talking,  of  all  his 
wonderful  works.  We  should  join  in  adoring  him,  and  acknow- 
ledge him  "  worthy  to  receive  glory  and  honour  and  power,  who 
has  created  all  things,  and  for  his  pleasure  they  are  and  were 
created."  And  it  follows,  that  we  should  likewise  absolutely  sub- 
mit to  this  sovereign  Being,  and  ever  resign  ourselves  to  his 
direction  and  disposal.  Where  can  ignorance  and  impotence  find 


I92  THE  LIFE  OF 


so  safe  and  sure  a  refuge  as  in  infinite  wisdom,  and  almighty 
power  ? 

In  this  manner  were  my  thoughts  employed,  as  we  rode  over 
the  brows  of  many  high  hills,  with  the  rising  sun  before  me,  till 
we  descended  to  a  narrow  wet  bottom,  which  trended  due  west  for 
an  hour,  and  brought  us  to  the  foot  of  another  high  mountain. 
This  we  ascended  with  the  horses  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  bring 
them,  and  from  thence  I  climbed  up  to  the  top,  by  a  steep  craggy 
way,  near  two  hundred  yards.  This  was  very  difficult  and 
dangerous,  but  I  had  an  enchanting  prospect,  when  I  gained  the 
summit  of  the  hill.  A  valley  near  a  mile  in  breadth  appeared 
betwixt  the  opposite  mountains  and  that  on  which  I  stood, 
and  a  river  was  running  through  it  that  spread  sometimes  into 
little  lakes,  and  sometimes  fell  headlong  from  the  rocks  in  sound- 
ing cascades.  The  finest  meadows,  and  little  thickets,  bordered 
those  waters  on  every  side,  and  beyond  them  the  vast  hills  had 
a  fine  effect  in  the  view  :  some  were  covered  with  forest ;  and 
some  with  precipitating  streams.  I  was  charmed  with  this  as- 
semblage of  the  beauties  of  nature.  It  is  a  more  delightful  land- 
scape than  art  has  been  able  to  form  in  the  finest  gardens  of  the 
world. 

The  descent  was  easy  to  this  beautiful  vale,  and  after  I  had 
feasted  my  eyes  with  the  prospect  of  the  place,  I  went  down  to  see 
who  lived  in  a  house  covered  with  creeping  greens,  that  stood  by 
a  sonorous  waterfall.  Some  wise  one  perhaps,  said  I,  who  scorns 
the  character  of  the  libertine,  or  the  sot,  and  to  the  pursuits  of 
avarice  and  ambition  leaves  the  world,  to  enjoy  in  this  fine  re- 
treat the  true  happiness  of  man  ;  by  embracing  that  wisdom 
wluch  is  from  above,  and  aspiring  to  an  equality  with  saints  and 
angels  :  happy  man  !  if  such  a  man  be  here.  Or,  it  may  be,  some 
happy  pair  possess  this  charming  spot  of  earth,  and  in  discharging 
all  the  duties  of  the  matrimonial  relation,  enjoy  that  fulness  of 
satisfaction  and  felicities,  which  the  divine  institution  was  de- 
signed to  produce.  Happy  pair  indeed  !  if  such  a  pair  be  here. 

But  when  I  came  near  the  mansion,  no  human  creature  could 
I  see,  nor,  for  some  time,  could  I  find  an  entrance  any  way.  The 
gate  of  the  garden,  in  which  the  house  stood,  was  fast,  and  so  was 
every  window  and  door  :  but  as  the  gardens  were  in  fine  order, 
and  full  of  fruits,  vegetables,  and  flowers,  I  knew  it  must  be  an 
inhabited  place,  though  its  people  were  from  home.  With  my 
pole  therefore  I  leaped  a  deep  moat,  which  surrounded  the  garden, 
and  for  half  an  hour  continued  walking  about  it,  pulling  some 
things,  and  looking  at  others,  in  hopes  that  some  one  might  be 
seen  :  no  soul  however  appeared,  and  I  was  going  to  return  to  my 
horses,  when,  by  accident,  I  came  to  a  descent  of  stairs,  that  was 
planted  round  with  a  shade  of  laurel,  evergreen,  and  branching 
palm.  Down  I  went  immediately,  and  walked  through  a  long 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  193 

arched  passage,  in  which  two  lamps  were  burning,  and  at  the  end 
of  it  came  to  an  open  door,  that  admitted  me  into  an  entry  which 
led  to  a  flight  of  stairs.  Should  I  go  any  farther,  was  the  question  ? 
If  any  one  within,  I  might  greatly  offend  :  and  if  it  was  the  habi- 
tation of  rogues,  I  might  find  myself  in  a  pound.  What  shall  I 
do  then  ?  Go  on,  said  curiosity,  and  bravely  finish  the  adven- 
ture. 

Softly  then  I  ascended,  listening,  by  the  way,  if  I  could  hear 
any  voice,  and  proceeded  upwards,  to  the  first  floor.  A  door  was 
there  open,  and  on  my  tiptoes  I  went  to  look  in,  but  all  I  could  see 
was  a  room  well  furnished,  and  through  it  I  passed  to  another, 
which  was  likewise  full  of  fine  things,  and  had  a  door  unlocked 
that  opened  into  a  large  library.  The  books  were  all  bound  in 
vellum,  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  the  collection  valuable,  and 
most  judiciously  ordered.  Mathematical  instruments  of  all  sorts 
were  on  a  table,  and  everything  looked  as  belonging  to  a  scholar 
and  man  of  fortune.  Great  was  my  amazement,  as  I  saw  no 
living  creature.  I  knew  not  what  to  think  of  all  these  things  : 
nor  did  my  astonishment  diminish,  when  I  went  from  the  library 
into  two  very  handsome  bedchambers,  and  saw  in  one  of  them  the 
apparel  of  a  woman  ;  in  the  other  the  dress  of  a  man. 

Musing  on  these  matters,  and  looking  over  the  books,  I  con- 
tinued near  an  hour,  when  I  turned  round  to  depart,  and  saw  at 
the  door  of  the  library  I  was  in,  a  gentleman,  and  two  young 
ladies  in  riding-dresses,  who  seemed  more  than  amazed  at  the 
sight  of  me.  The  man's  face  I  knew  very  well,  and  soon  remem- 
bered he  was  one  of  the  company  that  came  over  with  me  from 
Ireland  in  the  Skinner  and  Jenkins,  and  a  person  I  had  thought 
a  very  odd  man  ;  for  he  never  stirred  out  of  his  birth  all  the  while 
he  was  on  board,  nor  spoke  a  syllable  to  any  one,  except  myself  ; 
and  that  only  for  a  couple  of  hours  after  we  landed  ;  when  he  was 
pleased  to  single  me  out,  and  requested  we  might  dine  together  ; 
to  which  I  said,  "  with  pleasure,  Sir,"  and  he  came  with  Miss  MEL- 
MOTH  and  me  to  our  inn.  With  us  he  sat  for  the  time  I  have  said, 
and  talked  like  a  man  of  sense  an.d  virtue.  He  was  but  three  or 
four  years  older  than  I  was,  and  yet  so  very  grave,  that  in  respect 
of  temper,  he  was  fit  for  the  bench.  He  told  me,  he  lived  in  too 
remote  a  place,  ever  to  expect  to  see  me  in  the  country  ;  but  he 
had  a  house  in  London,  where  he  was  every  winter,  if  not  hindered 
by  sickness,  and  to  a  part  of  it  I  should  be  welcome,  if  it  was  agree- 
able to  me  to  improve  our  acquaintance.  Many  other  civil  things 
he  said,  and  shewed  a  regard  for  me  that  I  little  expected,  and 
could  not  but  wonder  at.  All  this  made  me  as  well  known  to  him 
as  he  was  remember' d  by  me  ;  but  he  looked,  as  it  were,  scared  at 
the  sight  of  me,  in  the  place  I  now  appeared  in ;  where  I  stood 
leaning  on  my  long  pole,  when  he  came  to  the  closet  door,  and 
was  reading  aloud  in  a  book  I  chanced  to  take  into  my  hand,  the 
following  lines  : 

H 


194  THE  LIFE  OF 


To,  trepl  roi>$  0eoi>s  irotei  ph,  ijyov  8£  TOVTO  clvai  dv/J-a  Ka\\iS~ov,  Kal 
6 e pair e iav  fM€yl<T-r]i>,  £av  wj  (3^\Ti£~ov  Kal  5t«at6raro»'  (reavrbv  TTCI/^XTJS  fJ-a\\ov 
yao  e\7ris  roi)y  TOIOUTOUS  f)  TOUS  iepeia  iroXXa  KaraSdXAoj'Tas  irpd^ew  TL  wapa 
T&V  0€&i>  aya6bv. 

To  which  I  added  a  few  reflections  : 

Est  ut  dicis.  Vera  praedicas,  vir  sapiens.  Quae  ad  Deos  spec- 
tant,  pulcherrimum  sacrificium  et  cultum  esse  maximum  ducito 
si  tiepsum  quam  optimum  et  justissimum  praebeas.  IIa/^x«''  eavr&v 
ws  pt\TiS~ov  Kal  diKai6Ta.Tov  :  Praebere  se  quam  optimum  ac 
justissimum,  pluris  apud  Deos  quam  multae  victimae.  Speran- 
dum  est  enim  tales  potius,  quam  qui  victimas  multas  prosternunt, 
quidpiam  boni  a  Diis  immortalibus  accepturos.  Quam  optimum 
cor  ac  justissimum  ad  aras  feramus,  et  bonum  a  numine  semper 
lucrabimus. 

True,  most  excellent  sage.  Rectitude  and  Benevolence  are  the 
perfection  of  rational  nature,  and  when  by  philosophy  we  acquire 
a  temper,  disposition  and  action  that  are  comf ormable  to  the  truth 
of  things,  and  continually  display  strict  justice  and  universal 
charity,  we  offer  the  noblest  sacrifice  to  heaven,  and  are  con- 
similated  with  the  Deity.  By  this  divine  affection,  for  order  and 
goodness,  we  manifest  a  continual  use  and  employment  of  our- 
selves for  the  glory  of  the  supreme  virtue,  and  may  by  this  means, 
expect  to  obtain  the  infinite  mercy  of  God  ;  when  slaughtered 
Hecatombs  are  despised  ;  and  the  creeds  of  incomprehensible 
mysteries,  and  the  external  modes  and  forms  of  churchism,  may 
be  considered  only  as  the  weakness  and  blindness  of  reverend 
heads.  Thousands  of  rams  and  ten  thousand  rivers  of  oil  ; 
speculative  faith,  rites  and  ceremonies,  are  nothing,  abstracted 
from  that  temper  and  affection,  which  unites  us  to  the  Deity,  and 
to  the  whole  system  of  rationals.  Virtue  and  charity  is  religion. 

This  passage  and  reflection  pronounced  very  loud,  with  an  en- 
thusiasm that  seizes  me  when  I  take  a  classic  in  my  hand,  added 
greatly  to  the  astonishment  of  finding  me  in  the  closet,  and  for 
some  time  the  gentleman  was  not  able  to  speak,  or  come  forward  ; 
but  at  last,  moving  towards  me,  as  I  did  to  him,  the  moment  I 
saw  him,  he  said,  "  by  what  strange  chance  have  I  the  favor  of 
seeing  you  here  ?  Inform  me,  I  beseech  you,  in  the  name  of 
friendship,  what  surprising  accident  has  thrown  you  on  this 
solitude  ;  without  horse  or  servant,  and  how  did  you  get  over  the 
broad  moat  of  water,  as  the  two  garden  gates  were  locked  ?  " 

"  MR.  BERRISFORT,"  I  answered,  "  You  may  well  wonder  at  see- 
ing me  in  this  remote  and  silent  part  of  the  world,  and  especially  at 
my  being  in  your  study,  without  either  horse  or  attendant  in 
waiting,  that  you  could  find,  on  coming  home  ;  but  the  thing  was 
all  natural,  in  the  common  course  of  events,  as  you  shall  hear. 
"  Three  weeks  after  you  left  me  at  Whitehaven,  I  set  out  from 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  195 

that  place  for  Brugh  under  Stanemore,  and  went  from  thence  up 
the  northern  mountains,  in  search  of  a  gentleman  I  had  some 
business  with,  who  lives  but  a  few  miles  beyond  you,  and  on  my 
return  from  his  house,  as  the  road  lay  very  high  on  the  side  of 
yonder  vast  hill,  I  quitted  my  horse  out  of  curiosity,  to  climb  up 
to  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  see  what  kind  of  country  lay  on 
the  other  side  of  this  long  range  of  high  hills.  It  was  with  great 
difficulty  I  got  up  to  the  pike,  and  few,  perhaps,  but  myself,  would 
attempt  it :  I  was  rewarded  however  by  the  fine  prospect,  and 
seeing  the  descent  on  this  side  easy,  and  a  house  and  large  gar- 
dens before  me,  I  could  not  refrain  from  going  down  to  the  bot- 
tom. I  marched  on  to  take  a  view  of  the  mansion  and  improve- 
ments, and  as  I  saw  some  very  fine  things  in  the  gardens,  and  no 
sign  of  any  living  creature  ;  the  gates  shut  and  every  place  to 
appearance  fastened,  I  leaped  the  moat  with  this  pole,  and  after 
I  had  wandered  about  the  ground,  by  accident  came  to  the  shady 
inclosure,  in  which  I  found  the  descending  stairs  from  the  garden, 
and  seeing  the  lamps  burning  in  the  passage,  could  not  avoid 
going  down,  and  proceeded  till  I  arrived  at  this  fine  library.  My 
admiration  was  great,  you  may  be  sure,  and  the  books  too  strong 
a  temptation  for  me  not  to  mind  them.  With  great  pleasure  I 
looked  into  many  of  them,  and  at  last  opened  the  Greek  writer 
I  was  reading  aloud,  when  you  came  to  the  door  of  your  study. 
Such  were  the  causes  that  brought  me  where  you  find  me." 

Mr.  BERRISFORT  replied,  "  Sir,  I  am  glad  there  was  anything  in 
the  force  and  operation  of  casualties,  that  could  bring  you  to  my 
house,  and  I  assure  you  upon  my  word,  that  you  are  most  heartily 
welcome.  As  I  lay  in  my  cabin  on  ship-board  I  conceived  a  great 
regard  for  you,  on  account  of  many  things  I  heard  you  say,  and 
particularly  for  your  lively  arguments  with  Dr.  WHALEY,  before 
the  storm  began,  in  defence  of  the  divine  Unity,  and  against  that 
miserable  theology  which  the  monks  have  invented,  and  continue 
to  support,  though  it  militates  with  the  revealed  truths  of  God, 
and  the  reason  and  fitness  of  things.  I  was  greatly  pleased  with 
your  different  definitions  of  churchism  and  religion,  and  honoured 
you  not  a  little  for  what  you  said  in  opposition  to  unintelligible 
mystery,  and  the  glare  of  ceremony  ;  at  the  same  time,  that  you 
contended  for  the  worship  of  the  universal  Father,  and  that  sober, 
righteous  and  godly  life,  which  springs  from  the  love  of  truth, 
virtue,  and  moral  rectitude.  Once  more  then  I  assure  you,  Sir, 
I  am  most  heartily  glad  to  see  you,  and  I  shall  take  it  as  a  great 
favour  if  you  will  pass  the  summer  with  me  in  this  wild  country 
place.  Every  thing  shall  be  made  as  agreeable  as  possible,  and 
exclusive  of  this  closet  of  books,  which  you  shall  possess  while  you 
stay  here,  we  will  hunt,  and  set,  and  shoot,  and  enjoy  all  the 
pleasures  of  the  field  :  but  in  the  mean  time,  as  it  is  now  ten 
o'clock,  we  ought  to  think  of  breakfast,  and  he  desired  his  sister, 


1 96  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  most  charming  creature,  to  call  for  it  immediately,  and  I  soon 
saw  several  servants  bring  in  every  thing  that  was  elegant  and 
excellent.  He  told  me  I  need  be  under  no  uneasiness  about  my 
mare  and  horses,  for  there  was  a  steep  narrow  way  for  them  to 
come  down  to  his  stables,  about  half  a  mile  from  the  place  I  left 
them,  and  he  would  immediately  send  one  of  his  servants  to 
bring  them." 

fcThis  was  vastly  civil  and  affectionate,and  I  told  Mr.  BERRISFORT, 
that  I  was  under  great  obligations  to  him  for  his  goodness,  which 
I  should  ever  have  an  extreme  sense  of,  but  I  was  obliged  to  go 
on  upon  business  :  a  few  days  however  I  would  enjoy  the  happi- 
ness he  offered  me,  and  we  passed  them  in  a  very  delightful  man- 
ner. 

Early  in  the  morning,  we  went  out  with  the  hounds,  and  for 
half  a  dozen  hours,  had  the  dogs  in  full  cry  before  us.  We  had 
hawks  and  pointers  in  the  afternoon,  and  enjoyed  abroad  all  the 
sports  of  the  field.  Within,  when  our  labours  were  over,  we  had 
the  most  elegant  dinners  and  suppers  ;  every  thing,  of  meat  and 
drink,  that  the  best  taste  could  desire  :  and  the  conversation  was 
excellent  after  the  repasts. 

Mr.  BERRISFORT  was  a  man  of  letters  and  breeding  :  and  the 
ladies  had  sense,  and  were  no  strangers  to  the  best  English  books. 
They  understood  no  other  language  than  their  mother  tongue, 
but  the  choicest  authors  of  every  kind  that  our  country  has  pro- 
duced, they  had  read  with  great  care.  The  master  of  Yeoverin- 
Green  was  a  learned,  worthy,  polite  man,  free  in  discourse,  if  he 
knew  his  company,  and  liked  them,  but  otherwise  quite  mute, 
and  he  was  instructive  in  everything  he  said.  His  sister  and 
cousin  were  very  good  ;  discreet  in  their  behaviour,  temperate  in 
their  discourse,  and  easy  in  their  manner.  They  had  no  learning  ; 
they  pretended  to  no  criticism  ;  but  talked,  without  vanity,  of 
the  best  things,  and  what  they  did  say,  they  expressed  in  a  most 
agreeable  way.  There  was  no  being  dull  with  such  people,  in 
such  a  place.  I  have  seen  very  few  young  ladies  in  my  time  that 
I  liked  better  than  those  girls.  They  both  charmed  me  with 
their  persons,  their  faces,  their  good  manners,  and  their  chat ; 
but  I  could  not  enough  admire  Miss  BERRISFORT  for  one  par- 
ticular, in  which  she  not  only  excelled  Miss  Fox,  but  all  the  women 
that  I  have  ever  seen.  This  was  in  hunting.  In  the  field,  she 
seemed  the  silver-shafted  queen. 

Mr.  BERRISFORT  and  Miss  Fox  followed  the  dogs  with  caution, 
and  never  attempted  anything  that  could  hazard  their  necks 
or  their  bones  :  but  the  charming  JULIET  BERRISFORT  had  so 
violent  a  passion  for  the  diversion  of  the  field,  that  she  was  seized 
with  a  kind  of  enthusiasm  when  she  heard  the  cry  of  the  hounds, 
and  as  if  she  had  been  the  goddess  of  the  silver  bow,  or  one  of  her 
immortal  train,  went  on  without  a  thought  of  her  having  brittle 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  197 

limbs.  She  leaped  every  thing  to  keep  in  with  the  dogs  ;  five-bar 
gates  ;  the  most  dangerous  ditches  and  pales  ;  and  drove  full 
speed  down  the  steepest  hills,  if  it  was  possible  for  a  horse  to  keep 
his  feet  on  them.  She  frightened  me  the  first  morning  I  was  out 
with  her.  She  made  my  heart  bounce  a  thousand  times.  I 
expected  every  now  and  then  that  she  would  break  her  neck — 
that  neck  where  lilies  grew  !  I  was  reckoned  a  very  desperate 
rider  by  all  that  knew  me,  and  yet,  with  this  young  lady,  I 
paused  several  times  at  some  leaps,  when  she  did  not  hesitate  at 
all.  Over  she  went,  in  a  moment,  without  thinking  of  the  perils 
in  her  way ;  and  then,  if  I  broke  my  neck,  I  could  not  but  pursue. 

When  glory  call'd,  and  beauty  led  the  way, 
What  man  could  think  of  life,  and  poorly  stay  ? 

It  was  not  in  my  complexion  to  stay,  and  by  that  means,  I  got 
a  terrible  fall  the  second  day  ;  whether  by  my  own  fault,  or  my 
horse's,  I  cannot  tell :  but  as  no  bone  was  broke,  and  I  had  re- 
ceived no  other  mischief  than  a  black  eye,  a  bruise  in  my  side,  and 
a  torn  face,  I  was  soon  on  my  mare  again,  and  by  Miss  BERRIS- 
FORT'S  side.  She  laughed  immoderately  at  me,  while  the  dogs 
were  at  fault,  as  my  bones  were  safe,  and  advised  me  with  a 
humorous  tenderness,  to  ride  with  her  brother  and  Miss  Fox. 
It  was  not  long  however  before  I  had  more  satisfaction  than  I 
desired  ;  for  in  half  an  hour's  time,  we  came  to  some  pales,  which 
the  stag  went  over  and  I  leaped  first ;  but  Miss  BERRISFORT'S 
horse  though  one  of  the  best  in  the  world,  unfortunately  struck, 
and  cleared  them  in  such  a  manner,  that  the  lovely  JULIET  came 
over  his  head.  She  fell  very  safely  in  high  grass,  where  I  waited 
for  her,  for  fear  of  an  accident  of  any  kind,  and  did  not  receive  the 
least  hurt ;  but  in  the  violence  of  the  motion,  and  the  way  she 
came  down,  the  curtain  was  thrown  on  her  breast,  and  she  lay 
for  some  moments  stun'd  upon  the  ground.  In  a  minute  how- 
ever I  snatched  her  up,  and  set  her  on  her  feet.  She  came  to  her- 
self immediately,  and  thanked  me  for  my  care  of  her  ;  but  was 
vexed  to  the  heart  at  what  had  happened.  She  requested  I  would 
not  mention  the  thing  to  her  brother  or  Miss  Fox,  and  hoped  I 
would  be  so  generous  as  not  to  speak  of  it  to  any  one.  I  assured 
her,  "  it  was  not  in  my  soul  to  extract  mirth  from  the  bad  fortune 
of  any  one  ;  and  much  less  is  it  in  my  power  to  ridicule,  or  laugh 
at  a  woman  of  distinction  for  an  accident  like  this.  You  may 
believe  me,  when  I  promise  you,  upon  my  word,  and  swear  it  by 
every  sacred  thing,  that  I  will  not  so  much  as  hint  it  to  any  mortal 
while  you  remain  in  this  world."  This  gave  her  some  relief,  and 
by  her  foot  in  my  hands  I  lifted  her  into  her  saddle  again.  Two 
benefits  were  derived  from  this  mischance.  One  was,  that  for  the 
future,  this  lady  hunted  with  a  little  more  caution,  and  did  not 


198  THE  LIFE  OF 


take  the  leaps  she  was  wont  to  do  ;  the  other,  that  it  gained  me 
her  heart,  though  I  did  not  know  it  for  many  months,  and  there- 
by secured  for  me  the  greatest  happiness,  against  a  day  of  dis- 
tress. From  the  most  trivial  things  the  most  important  do  often 
spring,  but  I  proceed. 

Vexatious  as  the  fall  was  to  this  young  lady,  it  was  I  however 
that  had  all  the  pain,  by  the  mischief  I  received  when  my  horse 
threw  me.  My  eye  was  in  a  sad  black  way,  my  side  troubled 
me,  and  the  skin  was  off  half  my  face  ;  yet  I  did  not  much  mind  it, 
as  the  diversion  was  good,  and  that  immediately  after  the  death  of 
the  stag  we  hastened  back  to  an  excellent  dinner,  and  some  flasks 
of  old  generous  wine  ;  to  which  BOB  BERRISFORT  and  I  sat  for 
two  or  three  hours.  The  ladies  had  left  us  to  change  their  dress, 
and  walk  in  the  gardens,  and  we  fell  into  very  serious  chat. 

"  I  am  thinking/'  said  Mr.  BERRISFORT,  after  a  considerable 
pause,  as  we  sat  smoking  a  pipe  over  against  each  other,  "  that  the 
cause  you  gave  Dr.  WHALEY,  on  ship-board,  for  the  decay  of 
Christianity,  was  the  best  I  have  heard.  I  remember  you  told 
this  divine,  that  it  was  not  want  of  faith  in  the  present  generation 
that  made  so  many  renounce  Christianity  ;  for,  the  world  were 
no  enemies  to  a  republication  of  the  law  of  nature  by  the  man 
Christ  Jesus  ;  but  the  thing  that  makes  infidels,  and  supports 
infidelity,  is  the  extravagant  doctrines  which  the  theologers  have 
obtruded  upon  the  church,  as  essential  parts  of  Christianity. 
Enthusiasm,  absurdity,  and  error,  and  the  blind  and  bloody  scenes 
of  cruelty  and  superstition  have  been  the  great  stumbling-blocks 
to  mankind,  and  given  the  most  sad,  severe  and  lasting  stabs, 
to  the  interests  and  success  of  the  pure  and  peaceable  gospel  of 
Christ.  This  is  just.  But  exclusive  of  this,  may  we  not  say  that 
there  are  so  many  seeming  contradictions,  and  a  multiplicity  of 
obscure  passages  in  it,  that  it  looks  as  if  it  could  not  be,  in  its 
present  condition,  a  rule  of  faith,  and  that  Christians  differ  so 
much  about  the  meaning  of  the  texts  of  their  Bible,  that  reason 
knows  not  what  to  say  to  a  religion  so  variously  represented. 
It  is  not  only  the  two  great  camps,  papist  against  protestant,  and 
protestant  against  papist,  who  make  the  religion  as  different 
as  black  and  white  ;  that  the  reformed  mission  at  Malabar  tell 
the  Indians  they  must  not  hearken  to  the  Jesuits,  if  they  expect 
salvation  ;  and  the  monks  at  Coromandel  declare,  on  the  con- 
trary, to  those  Indians,  that  they  will  be  damned  to  eternity,  if 
they  are  converted  to  what  the  Danish  ministers  call  Christianity  : 
which  made  the  famous  bramin  Padmanaba  say,  that  it  was  im- 
possible for  him  to  become  a  Christian,  till  the  learned  Christian 
priests  had  agreed  among  themselves  what  Christianity  was  j 
for  he  had  not  erudition  and  judgment  enough  to  decide  in  the 
intricate  controversy ;  but,  exclusive  of  this,  protestants  are  so 
divided  among  themselves,  even  the  church  of  England  against 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  199 

the  church  of  England,  dissenters  against  dissenters,  and  give 
such  different  accounts  of  the  revealed  system,  that  it  requires 
more  understanding,  and  strict  serious  enquiry,  than  the  general- 
ity of  people  have,  or  can  spare,  to  be  able  to  determine  in  what 
party  of  the  celebrated  critics  and  expositors  true  religion  is  to 
be  found  :  and  when  the  controversy  is  so  dark  and  various,  and 
the  authorised  professors  can  never  agree  among  themselves, 
what  can  a  man  of  a  plain  understanding  say  to  it  ?  This  makes 
many,  I  imagine,  turn  from  the  scriptures  to  study  nature,  and 
the  general  laws  which  are  established  among  the  several  gra- 
dations, ranks  and  classes  of  beings,  so  far  as  they  are  connected 
with  intelligent,  moral  agency.  In  the  natural,  agreeable  pages 
of  that  infinite  volume,  we  see  and  perceive  beauty  and  order, 
art,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  and  are  thereby  led  to  the  Creator  and 
Governor  of  the  world,  the  universal  cause,  preserver,  and  director 
of  nature.  We  discover  his  providence,  measures  and  benevolence, 
the  rules  and  principles  of  eternal,  immutable  wisdom  and  reason, 
and  by  them  are  compelled  to  confess  a  universal,  intelligent 
Efficient ;  one  infinite,  eternal,  omnipotent,  wise,  good  Being, 
from  whom  all  others  derive,  and  on  whom  all  others  necessarily 
depend,  and  that  continually.  In  short,  by  studying  nature,  we 
discover  a  God  of  truth,  order  and  rectitude,  and  as  we  find  perfect 
universal  truth,  and  moral  rectitude  to  be  the  highest  perfection 
in  the  Deity,  our  reason  informs  us,  that  we  ought  to  show  our 
love  of  God,  by  a  love  of  these  ;  and  that  a  regular,  uniform 
pursuit  of  them,  must  be  the  only  true  and  rational  pursuit  of 
human  happiness.  Here  is  a  plain  and  good  religion.  Can  we 
wonder  then  that  many  study  and  follow  nature,  and  disregard 
those  interested  commentators,  who,  like  opposite  counsel  at  the 
bar,  multiply  and  make  void  the  law  by  different  and  contra- 
dictory pleadings  on  it  ?  "  Here  BOB  ended — and  lighted  his  pipe 
again,  while  I  laid  mine  down,  and  went  on  in  the  following 
manner  : 

"  As  Christianity  was  instituted  by  its  great  Author  and  Pub- 
lisher, for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  the 
divines  should  so  differ,  concerning  what  genuine  revealed  re- 
ligion is,  as  to  cause  many  to  renounce  this  standing  and  perpetual 
rule  of  faith  and  manners,  but  as  to  contradictions  and  incon- 
sistencies in  the  apostle's  writings,  I  have  read  them  over  several 
times,  and  never  could  find  such  things  in  them.  Obscure  pas- 
sages there  are  a  few  at  first  sight ;  but  a  little  consideration  can 
explain  them  by  other  scriptures,  if  we  do  not  like  some  com- 
mentators endeavour,  by  forced  constructions,  to  adapt  the  sense 
of  them  to  a  system.  This  is  what  ruins  Christianity.  The  monks 
shut  out  the  light  of  reason,  which  is  to  explain  scripture  by  scrip- 
ture, and  in  the  dark,  fancy  a  metaphysical  theology  :  they 
speculate  a  tritheistic  mystery,  original  sin,  divine  sovereignty, 


200  THE  LIFE  OF 


election,  reprobation,  with  many  other  pieties,  and  call  the  things 
revelation,  which  are,  in  reality,  an  artificial,  invented  corruption 
of  the  gospel.  The  majority  of  the  doctors  insist  upon  it  that  their 
reverend  notions  are  revealed  religion,  and  where  they  have  a 
power,  wattle  the  people  into  them  ;  but  men  who  will  use  the 
human  understanding  their  Creator  has  given  them,  and  employ 
the  reason  of  men  in  the  choice  of  their  religion,  very  easily  per- 
ceive that  unnatural  representation  could  never  come  down  from 
heaven  :  and  that  whatever  the  declaimers  on  human  nature  may 
say  in  praise  of  their  gospel,  it  is  impossible  it  should  be  inspiration, 
when  the  propositions  rather  merit  laughter  and  contempt  than 
the  attention  of  rational  creatures.  This  makes  the  Indians  of 
any  understanding  flee  Christianity.  This  causes  men  of  sense, 
in  a  free  country,  to  declare  against  revealed  religion.  The 
principal  offence  must  remain,  while  the  majority  of  the  clergy 
continue  to  blind  the  human  understanding,  and  instead  of  couch- 
ing the  cataract,  darken  the  souls  of  the  people  with  a  suffusion 
of  mystery  :  to  which  I  may  add,  and  obstinately  refuse  to  make 
use  of  unexceptionable,  scriptural  forms  of  expression  in  divine 
public  service,  though  an  alteration  might  be  made  without  any 
possible  danger  or  injury  to  the  church,  and  continue  to  use  in  our 
liturgy  unscriptural  phrases,  and  metaphysical  notions,  the 
imaginations  of  weak  men.  While  this  is  done,  the  Christian 
religion  must  suffer,  and  of  consequence,  the  divines  who  con- 
tend for  mystery,  and  labour  to  destroy  human  reason  and  the 
powers  thereof  :  to  stifle  and  extinguish  our  common  notions  of 
things,  and  preclude  all  reasoning  whatsoever  upon  the  subject  of 
religion  ;  must  have  the  blood  of  more  souls  to  answer  for,  in  the 
approaching  day  of  calamity,  than  they  now  seem  to  imagine, 
while  great  preferments  blind  their  understanding,  and  render 
them  insolent  and  positive.  All  this  however  has  nothing  to  do 
with  the  true  gospel.  If  men  would  read  the  historical,  and  the 
argumentative  parts  of  the  sacred  writings  with  honesty,  and 
explain  them  as  right  reason  and  true  criticism^directs  ;  if  they 
would  study  them  with  that  true  zeal,  which  is  guided  by  a  good 
light  in  the  head,  and  which  consists  of  good  and  innocent  affec- 
tions in  the  heart ;  and  have  at  the  same  time  a  knowledge  of  the 
customs  which  prevailed,  and  the  notions  that  were  commonly 
received  in  those  distant  ages  and  countries,  they  would  find  no 
inconsistencies  and  contradictions  in  the  scriptures,  even  the 
difficulties  would  soon  disappear.  The  sacred  writings  would 
appear  to  be  what  they  are,  a  system  of  religion  that  answers  to 
all  our  wishes  and  desires  ;  that  requires  of  us  that  obedience  to 
which  as  rational  beings  we  are  antecedently  bound  :  and  offers 
us  rewards  for  obeying  more  than  nature  could  ever  claim.  In  the 
gospel,  we  have  the  religion  of  nature  in  perfection,  and  with  it 
a  certainty  of  mercy  and  unutterable  blessings  :  but  in  natural 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  201 

religion,  as  the  reason  and  understanding  of  men  can  collect  it, 
our  hopes  of  pardon  and  glory  have  but  uncertain  foundation. 
Without  revelation,  our  hopes  are  liable  to  be  disturbed  and  shaken 
by  frequent  doubts  and  misgivings  of  mind  :  but  in  revealed 
religion,  that  is,  the  moral  law  republished  by  inspired  men,  the 
promises  of  the  gospel  take  in  all  the  wishes  of  nature,  and  estab- 
lish all  her  hopes.  Blessed  be  God,  then  for  sending  his  well- 
beloved  Son  into  the  world.  From  him  we  have  a  law  that  is 
holy,  and  the  commandment  holy,  and  just,  and  good  :  and  by  a 
dutiful  submission  to  this  plain  and  perfect  law,  in  which  there 
is  no  mystery,  no  inconsistency,  no  contradiction,  we  are  delivered 
from  condemnation,  by  the  grace  of  God  through  Christ.  Here 
is  reason  for  adoring  the  divine  goodness.  The  gospel  gives  a 
better  evidence  for  the  truth  and  certainty  of  life  and  immortality 
than  nature  before  had  given,  and  thereby  displays  the  love  that 
God  has  for  the  children  of  men." 

To  this  Mr.  BERRISFORT  said,  that  "  he  thought  my  plea  for 
original  Christianity  was  good,  and  allowed  it  was  not  the  gospel 
that  was  faulty  in  mystery  and  obscurity,  contradiction  and  incon- 
sistency ;  but,  human  ignorance,  and  human  vanity,  which  have 
loaded  it  with  absurdities,  while  they  excluded  reasoning  about 
it,  and  warped  its  fair  and  heavenly  maxims  to  the  interests  of 
systems  and  temporalities.  However,"  continued  Bob,  "  you 
will  allow  I  believe,  that  the  sacred  writers  had  not  perpetually 
the  aid  of  an  unerring  Spirit,  and  therefore  are  sometimes  incon- 
sistent in  their  accounts  :  that  as  they  were  sometimes  destitute 
of  divine  assistance,  they  were  liable  to  error  when  guided  only 
by  the  human  spirit,  and  did  act  like  common  men  upon  several 
occasions.  This  seems  to  be  evident  from  the  relations,  and  the 
human  sentiments  of  the  apostles.  The  evangelists  speak  of  the 
same  facts  differently  ;  and  in  citing  prophecy,  while  one  adapts 
a  fact  to  the  letter  of  the  prophecy,  another  accommodates  the 
letter  of  the  prophecy  to  the  letter  of  the  fact  :  I  mean  here,  the 
ass  and  colt  in  Matthew,  and  the  colt  only  in  John,  and  their 
citing  Zechariah,  ch.  ix.  v.  9.  differently.  And  as  to  the  other 
sacred  writers,  does  not  the  dispute  between  Paul  and  Peter, 
shew  a  subjection,  sometimes,  to  ignorance  and  error  ?  does  not 
the  quarrel  between  Barnabas  and  Paul  let  us  see,  that  one  of 
them  was  mistaken,  and  both  of  them  to  be  blamed  ?  Tell  me 
likewise,  what  you  think  of  Mark  and  John's  different  accounts 
of  the  time  of  the  crucifixion,  and  does  not  Matthew  contradict 
Mark  in  his  relation  of  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  ?  "  To  this  I 
replied,  "  that  however  some  zealots  may  contend  for  the  per- 
petual inspiration  of  the  sacred  writers,  yet  he  could  not  think 
such  doctrine  necessary  to  the  creed  of  a  Christian  :  Jesus  only 
is  called  the  truth,  and  was  incapable  of  error.  Christ  only  in  all 
his  actions,  was  directed  by  a  prophetic  sphit.  All  other  men, 


102  THE  LIFE  OF 


prophets  and  apostles,  were  sometimes  left  to  the  guidance  of  their 
own  spirit ;  and  therefore  all  things  which  they  have  signified 
to  us  by  their  words  or  deeds,  are  not  to  be  considered  as  divine 
oracles.  Nee  adeo  omnia,  quaecunque  dictis  significarunt  aut 
factis,  ea  pro  divinis  oraculis  habenda.  Nullus,  excepto  Domino, 
fuit  unquam  propheta,  qui  omnia  egerit  spiritu  prophetico.  So 
Limborch,  Dodwell,  and  Baxter  say,  and  of  the  same  opinion  were 
Grotius  and  Erasmus.*  They  assert,  that  the  apostles,  on 

*  Erasmus,  Grotius,  Limborch,  Baxter,  and  Dodwell,  were  great  and  excellent  men,  and 
their  lives  and  writings  highly  merit  consideration.  Of  the  former  it  may  justly  be  said,  that 
he  in  vain  lived  and  died  in  the  Romish  communion,  and  sustained  many  reflections  from 
some  zealous  protestants  ;  he  was  not  the  less  ill  treated  both  during  his  life  ,and  after  his 
death,  by  several  Romish  catholic  writers  ;  for  though  taking  all  things  together,  Erasmus 
was  what  they  called  a  Roman  catholic  ;  yet  his  Colloquies  shew  his  hatred  of  the  monks,  and 
it  was  plain  from  his  writings  and  behaviour,  that  he  did  not  see  without  joy  the  first  steps 
of  Luther.  Bayle  says  of  Erasmus,  that  he  was  one  of  those  witnesses  for  the  truth,  who 
were  wishing  for  a  reformation  in  the  church,  but  who  did  not  think  it  was  to  be  procured 
by  erecting  another  society  to  be  supported  by  leagues,  and  that  should  pass  immediately 
a  verbis  ad  verbera,  from  words  to  blows,  for  speaking  of  his  contemporary  Luther,  Erasmus 
says,  "  had  all  that  he  wrote  been  good,  his  seditious  freedom  would  still  have  been  disagree- 
able to  me.  I  would  rather  submit  to  some  errors  than  raise  a  civil  war,  and  put  the  whole 
world  in  an  uproar  for  the  sake  of  truth.  Jo.  Manlius  in  Locorum  Communium  Collectaneis, 
printed  at  Francfort  on  the  Maine,  in  1568,  in  8vo,.  has  this  passage  :  "  Erasmus  Rotero- 
damus  moriturus  saepe  ingeminavit  hanc  vocem,  Dpmine,  Domine  fac  finem,  fac  finem,  sed 
quid  voluerit  dicere  non  possum.  Manlius  was  with  Erasmus  in  his  last  hour. 

Erasmus  was  born  at  Rotterdam,  October  28, 1466,  and  died  of  a  bloody  flux  at  Basil,  aged 
70.  July  12,  1536. 

The  following  epitaph  is  on  a  marble  stone  in  the  cathedral  at  Basil,  where  he  was  buried. 

CHRISTO  SERVATORI.  s. 
DES.  ERASMO  ROTTERODAMO. 

VIRO. 

OMNIBUS  MODIS  MAXIMO,  cujus  INCOMPARA- 
BILEM  IK  OMNI  DISCIPLINARUM  GENERE 
ERUDITIONEM  PARI  CONJUNCTAM  PRUDEN- 
TIA  POSTERI  ET  ADMIRABUNTUR  ET  PRvEDI- 
CABUNT  ;  BONIFACIUS  AMERBACHIUS,  HlER. 
FROBENIUS,  NIC.  EPISCOPIUS,  H^EREDES  ET 

NUNCUPATI  SUPREME  SU*  VOLUNTATIS 
VlNDICES,  PATRONO  OPTIMO  NON  MEMORISE 
QUAM  IMMORTALEM  SIBI  EDITIS  LUCUBRA- 
TIONIBUS  COMPARAVIT,  IIS  TANTISPER  DUM 

ORBIS  TERRARUM  STABIT  SUPERFUTURO 

AC  ERUDITIS  UBIQUE  GENTIUM  COLLOQUU' 

TURO,  SED  CORPORIS  MORTALIS  QUO 

RECONDITUM  SIT  ERGO  HOC 

SAXUM  POSUERE. 

MORTUUS  EST  IV.  BID.  JUL. 

JAM  SEPTUAGENARIUS,  ANN.  A  CHRISTO  NATO 

M.D.  XXXVI. 

i 

Above  this  epitaph  is  the  device  and  seal  of  Erasmus,  to  wit,  TERMINUS,  the  god  of  bounds 
and  the  words — 

CONCEDO   NULLI. 

The  inscription  to  bis  memory,  at  Rotterdam,  is  this  : 

DESIDERIO  ERASMO 

MAGNO  SCIENTIARUM  ATQUE  LI- 

TERATURAE  POLITIORIS  VIN- 

DICI    ET    INSTAURATORI 

VIRO    SUI    S^ECULI    PRIMARIO 

ClVI    OMNIUM    PR^STANTISSIMO 

AC    NOMINIS    IMMORTALITATE>' 

SCRIPTIS   JEVITERNIS    JURE 

CONSECUTO. 

S.  P.  Q.  ROTTERDAM 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  203 

ordinary  occasions,  were  ordinary  men.  All  true  Christians  critics 
must  allow  this,  and  grant  that  the  universal  inspiration  of  the 
sacred  penmen,  is  a  notion  founded  in  the  prejudices  of  pious 
men  and  their  mistaken  sense  of  scripture.  Such  infallible 

NE    QUOD   TANTIS   APUD    SE    SUOSQUE 
POSTEROS   VIRTUTIBUS   PREMIUM: 

DEESSET 

STATUAM  HANC  EX  /ERE  PUBLICO 
ERIGENDAM  CURAVERUNT. 

BARBARIZE  TALEM  SE  DEBELLATUR  ERASMUS 

MAXIMA  LAUS  BATAVI  NOMINIS  ORE  TULIT 
REDDIDIT  EN  !  FATIS  ARS  OBLUCTATA  SINISTRIS, 
DE  TANTO  SPOLIUM  NACTA  QUOD  URNA  VIRO 

EST 

INGENII  COELESTE  JUBAR  MAJUSQUE  CADUCO 
TEMPORE  QUI  REDDAT  SOLUS  ERASMUS  ERIT. 

'  Froben  published  an  edition  in  1540,  of  all  the  works  of  Erasmus  at  Basle,  in  nine  volumes 
folio.  The  first,  second,  and  fourth,  contain  his  Philosophical,  Rhetorical,  and  Grammatical 
Pieces,  his  Colloquies  and  Praise  of  Folly  :  the  third,  his  Epistles,  which  are  very  fine,  and 
many  of  them  relate  to  the  affairs  of  the  church  :  the  fifth,  his  Books  of  Piety  :  the  sixth,  his 
version  of  the  New  Testament,  with  notes  :  the  seventh,  his  Paraphrases  on  the  New  Testament : 
the  eighth  his  Translations  of  some  Greek  Fathers  :  the  ninth,  which  is  the  largest,  his  Apolo- 
gies. His  New  Testament,  Letters,  and  Colloquies,  are  the  most  valuable  of  his  works.  The 
preface  to  his  Paraphrase  on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew,  is  an  admirable  thing.  An  English 
translation  of  it,  with  notes,  and  a  good  preliminary  discourse  addressed  to  Roman  catholics, 
was  printed  in  1749.  Reader,  though  the  edition  of  1540  here  mentioned  is  a  good  one,  yet 
that  of  Le  Clerc's  printed  at  Leyden,  in  1703,  in  eleven  volumes,  folio,  is  infinitely  superior, 
and  in  better  estimation. 

Hugo  Grotius,  the  son  of  Jean  de  Groot  was  born  at  Delft  in  Holland,  the  xoth  of  April, 
1583,  and  died  at  Rostock  in  Mecklenbourg,  Sept.  8,  1645,  aged  62. 

fin  the  former  editions  of  this  book,  a  condensed  list  of  the  writings  of  Grotius  followed  this 
note,  which  was  derived  from  M.  de  Burigny's  excellent  Life  of  that  great  man,  printed  in 
1752,  and  translated  from  the  French  into  English  in  1754.  With  much  asperity  if  not  ill- 
nature,  Amory  has  accused  M.  de  Burgny  of  being  a  "bigotted  papist,"  and  charges  him  with 
having  "  in  a  sad  and  ridiculous  manner  strained  some  lines  written  by  Grotius  to  prove  that 
he  died  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Rome."  The  Abbe  Raynal,  a  judicious  French  writer, 
observes  that  '  M.  de  Burigny,  has  introduced  nothing  but  facts  well  supported,  or  theo- 
logical discussions  delivered,  but  with  the  greatest  conciseness  and  accuracy,"  and  that,  "  the 
most  valuable  part  of  his  work,  is  the  just  and  concise  idea  which  it  gives  of  Grotius's  several 
writings."  The  commendation  given  by  the  Abbe  Raynal  is  wholly  and  absolutely  just ; 
should  the  reader,  therefore,  be  desirous  of  becoming  better  acquainted  with  the  Life  and 
Writings  of  Grotius,  he  will  find  himself  agreeably  entertained  by  perusing  the  Life  written 
by  M.  de  Burigny,  and  printed  in  1745,  in  8vo.  The  list  of  the  works  of  Grotius  occupies 
PP-  363-8,  and  though  it  has  met  with  the  maledictory  censure  of  Amory,  will  questionless 
receive  its  due  meed  of  praise  from  the  reader.  ED.] 

The  great  and  good  Richard  Baxter  was  a  nonconformist  divine,  who  suffered  much  by 
the  severity  of  that  cruel  monster  of  a  man,  lord  chief  justice  Jefferies,  in  a  prosecution,  in 
Easter  Term,  1685,  on  account  of  some  passages  in  his  Paraphrase  on  the  New  Testament. 
He  was  confined  in  the  King's  Bench  prison  from  the  beginning  of  the  year  1685,  till  Nov.  24, 
1686  ;  when,  by  the  mediation  of  Lord  Powis,  he  obtained  a  pardon  from  King  James,  and 
was  released  out  of  prison.  The  passages  marked  for  censure,  by  Sir  Roger  L'Estrange ; 
were  his  explications  of  Matt.  ch.  v.  v.  19.  Mark,  ch.  ix.  v.  39  ;  xi.  31  ;  xii.  38,39,  40.  Luke, 
ch.  x.  v.  2.  John,  ch.  xi.  v.  57  ;  and  Acts,  ch  xv.  v.  2.  Dr.  South  is  said  to  have  likewise 
put  into  his  enemies,  power,  some  annotations,  from  Romans,  ch.  xiii.  The  charge  was,  that 
his  paraphrase  on  these  places  reflected  on  the  prelates  of  the  church  of  England,  and,  con- 
sequently, that  he  was  guilty  of  sedition ;  but  equity  at  this  day  can  find  no  such  reflection 
or  sedition  in  the  passages  so  condemned. 

Richard  Baxter  was  born  November  12,  1615,  at  Rowton  in  South  Bradford.  He  was  an 
author  fifty-two  years,  and  in  that  time  wrote  one  hundred  and  forty-five  distinct  treatises, 
whereof  four  were  folios,  seventy-three  quartos,  forty-nine  octavos,  and  nineteen  in  twelves 
and  twenty-fours  ;  besides  single  sheets,  separate  sermons,  and  prefaces  to  other  men's  writ- 
ings. He  began  with  Aphorisms  of  Justification,  printed  in  1649  !  m  his  thirty-fourth  year  ; 
and  ended  with  the  Certainty  of  the  World  of  Spirits,  in  1691  ;  on  the  8th  of  December,  in  the 
same  year  he  died  at  the  advanced  age  of  76  years,  at  his  house  in  Charter-house- Yard.  The 
following  books  of  his  composing  in  English,  are  excellent :  The  Saint's  Everlasting  Rest : 


THE  LIFE  OF 


authority  they  think  the  best  way  to  silence  all  objections,  and 

weakly  embrace  the  hypothesis  to  advance  the  honour  of  religion. 

"  ButjDur  allowing  this,  and  that  there  are  some  disagreements 

and  variations  in  the  evangelists,  cannot  hurt  the  gospel.     St. 

Call  to  the  Unconverted :  Dying  Thoughts  :  Certainty  of  the  World  of  Spirits :  and  his  Para- 
phrase on  the  New  Tesament.  His  Latin  pieces  are  De  Catechisatione  Domestica.  Aphoris  mi 
de  Justificatione  et  Fcederibus.  Apologia.  Libellus  Rationum  pro  Religione  Christiana  contra 
Gassendum  et  Habesium.  Epistola  de  Generali  Omnium  Protestantium  Unione  adversus  Papa- 
turn.  Dissertatio  de  Baptismo  Infantium.  Directiones  de  Reformation  Ecclesice.  De  Reli- 
gtone  Grotiana  adversus  Piercium.  De  Jure  Sacramentorum.  Gildas  Salvianus,  sive  ^Pastor 
Reformatus.  Catechismus  Quackerianus.  Clavis  Catholicorum.  De  Regimine  Ecclesia.  De 
Universali  Redemptione  contra  Calvinum  et  Bezam.  De  Rep.  Sancta.  Historia  Conciliorum. 

But  few  I  am  persuaded  in  those  days  of  dissipation  and  pleasure,  will  sit  down  to  read  all 
or  any  of  what  Baxter  hath  written.  It  may  however,  be  conscientiously  asked,  What  must 
become  of  us  when  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  fly  from  themselves,  and  laugh  at  every  thing 
serious ;  run  into  every  extravagance  and  vanity,  and  wanton  life  away  in  dissipation  and 
diversion  ?  For  shame,  rationals,  reflect.  Consider  what  ye  are.  You  are  beings  endued 
with  reason,  to  the  end  that  you  may  pursue  the  true  happiness  of  rational  nature,  and  by  a 
truth  and  rectitude  of  life,  unite  yourselves  to  the  supreme  inexhaustible  fountain  of  all  in- 
tellectual and  durable  good.  You  are  likewise  accountable  creatures,  standing  on  the  brink 
of  death,  resurrection,  and  judgment ;  and  when  this  fleeting  scene  of  vanity  is  over,  moral 
impotence,  or  natural  weakness,  as  they  are  now  called,  will  not  be  accepted  as  a  plea  for  the 
offender  against  nature  and  reason,  for,  let  reason  be  heard,  and  spend  some  hours  of  your 
every  day,  in  reading  good  books,  and  in  the  closet  in  prayer,  with  a  resolution  to  do  your 
best  to  live  as  you  pray,  and  that  power,  which  darkens  the  understanding,  enslaves  the  will, 
and  obstructs  the  operations  of  conscience,  you  may  easily  remove.  You  will  despise  every 
gratification  against  truth,  and  delight  in  being  useful  and  pious  here,  that  you  may  secure 
eternal  happiness  in  some  future  world.  Ponder  then,  rationals,  in  time.  As  you  are  placed 
herein  a  mutable  condition  capable  of  bliss  and  misery  ;  to  be  made  confirmed  blessed  spirits 
above,  when  the  time  of  probation  is  over,  if  you  have  kept  the  commandments  of  God ;  or, 
to  live  with  Lucifer  and  the  apostates  for  ever  in  darkness  and  woe,  if  you  have  not  fought 
the  good  fight,  and  kept  the  faith  ;  therefore,  do  all  that  piety  and  goodness  can  do  in  this 
life.  Resolve  by  the  advice  of  the  gospel,  and  let  nothing  in  nature  be  able  to  divert  the 
execution,  but  a  countermand  from  the  same  authority.  I  speak  to  the  rich  and  gay,  who 
nightly  visit  the  resplendent  and  delusive  scenes  of  vitiated  life,  among  the  higher  orders ; 
as  well  as  to  others  who  frequent  the  dances  given  at  fairs  and  sixpenny  hops  as  they  are 
termed ;  where  people  of  both  sexes,  of  low  and  middling  condition,  assemble  together,  to 
their  destruction  in  all  respects.  Here  the  ruin  of  many  an  honest  tradesman's  daughter 
commences  ;  and  from  being  men  of  pleasure  at  these  places,  idle  young  fellows  come  by  de- 
grees to  the  gallows.  Their  morals  are  here  corrupted,  their  time  is  wasted,  and  money  must 
be  got  some  way  or  other,  to  answer  the  expences.  The  women  there,  are  for  the  most  part 
loose  characters,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  men,  pickpoojcets  and  gamblers  ;  nor  do  they 
keep  themselves  sober  ;  for  the  last  time  I  looked  into  one  of^heir  dancing  rooms,  to  see  how 
it  was  with  my  kind,  one  night,  as  I  was  walking  home,  I  sawslpie  of  the  men  fuddled,  fight- 
ing for  the  women ;  and  several  unhappy  girls,  so  drunk,  they  could  not  stand.  The  whole 
was  a  sad  scene. 

But  you,  who  are  great,  honourable,  and  rational — may  be  called  on,  I  suppose,  to  stay 
every  wandering  or  illicit  thought,  every  inconsiderate  word,  and  to  bring  every  intended 
action  before  the  supreme  bar  of  righteous  and  impartial  reason.  You  may,  perhaps,  re- 
member what  I  beg  leave  to  tell  you,  that  you  live  under  a  threefold  duty  to  God,  to  your 
neighbours,  and  to  yourselves :  and  of  consequence,  that  you  must  flee  all  those  pleasures, 
and  diversions,  and  alienation  of  mind,  which  usually  obstruct  the  love  of  God,  his  fear,  and 
honour ;  that  you  must  have  no  immoderate  desires,  which  may  tempt  you  to  violate  the 
laws  of  justice  and  charity  ;  and  in  the  regimen  of  yourselves,  that  you  must  observe  a  strict 
moderation  and  temperance,  and  make  your  whole  life  an  oblation,  and  submission  to  the  will 
of  God.  This  advice  I  humbly  offer  to  those  intelligent,  immortal  beings,  who  waste  their 
precious  hours  in  routs  and  spectacles,  and  in  every  species  of  plays  and  sports,  frolic  it  all 
the  long  day. 

Philip  de  Limborch,  a  remonstrant  divine,  and  professor  of  Theology,  was  born  June  19, 
1633.  He  was  a  learned  and  excellent  man,  and  hath  written  the  following  excellent  books  : 
Systtmt  Complet  de  la  Theologie,  which  was  translated  into  English,  and  printed  in  8vo.  Col- 
latio  Arnica  de  Veritate  Religionis  Christiana,  cum  Erudito  Judeceo.  At  the  end  of  this,  is 
an  account  of  Uriel  Acosta,  a  Portuguese  deist,  who  had  been  a  Jew,  and  Limborch's  Defence 
of  Christianity  against  Acosta's  objections.  This  remarkable  life  and  defence  of  revealed 
religion  were  translated  into  English  in  the  year  1740.  But  the  ,Collatio  has  not  been  pub- 
lished in  English  by  any  one  :  at  least  I  never  saw  such  a  thing  :  and  for  this  reason,  I  have 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  205 

Paul  might  reprove  St.  Peter,  and  speak  himself  sometimes  after 
the  manner  of  men  ;  yet,  we  see  where  they  had  the  divine  assis- 
tance in  their  explications,  and  the  power  of  working  miracles  to 
confirm  their  doctrine  ;  and  there,  as  rational  and  thinking  men, 

begun  a  translation  of  it,  and  intend  to  finish  it  with  many  notes  on  the  arguments  of  the  two 
disputants ;  if  death,  or  sickness,  do  not  hinder.  L'Histoire  de  ce  Terrible  Tribunal  I'lnquisi  • 
tion  ;  that  is  The  History  of  the  Inquistion  ;  was  translated  into  English  by  Samuel  Chandler,* 
a  dissenting  minister  ;  who  prefixed,  in  an  introduction,  a  History  of  Persecution,  that  cannot 
be  sufficiently  praised,  or  enough  admired.  The  History  and  introduction  were  published  in 
4to,  in  1731,  and  the  introduction  was  afterwards  re- printed  in  8vo.  and  again  by  Atmore, 
in  1813,  8vo.  Commentarius  in  Acta  Apostolorum  et  in  Epistolas  ad  Romanos  et  Hebrcsos, 
printed  in  folio.  This  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  books  in  Christian  learning ;  strong  and 
beautiful ;  just  and  rational.  Let  it  stand  next  your  bible  in  your  study,  and  when  you  sit 
down  to  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  Epistles  to  the  Romans  and  Hebrews,  let  Limborch's 
Commentary  be  open  before  you,  and  you  will  be  improved  and  charmed. 
Let  me  likewise  advise  you,  reader,  to  open,  at  the  same  tune,  Dr.  Sykes  on  the  Hebrews  ; 


tion ;  and  his  Connexion  and  Discourse  on  the  Miracles,  are  admirable. 

See  likewise  his  Essay  on  Sacrifices,  his  True  Foundations  of  Natural  and  Revealed  Religion, 
his  Two  Defences  of  Clarke's  Exposition  of  the  Catechism,  his  Phlegon,  his  Two  Previous  Ques- 
tions, and  Defence  of  the  Two  Questions  of  Dr.  Middleton  against  Dr.  Chapman,  Dr.  Church,  and 
Mr.  Dodwell.  These,  and  all  his  pieces,  are  delightful,  useful  learning.  They  illustrate  reve- 
lation, and  give  a  just  and  charming  account  of  the  Christian  religion. 

Limborch  wrote  some  other  small  things,  as  Letters,  Prefaces,  and  Essays.  Among  the 
former  those  addressed  by  him  to  Locke  are  excellent ;  that  on  Liberty  or  Power,  was  too 
much  even  for  that  distinguished  and  profound  philosopher.  But  his  most  celebrated  Letter 
to  Locke,  in  which  Limborch  gave  the  history  of  his  arguments,  used  in  bringing  back  an 
ingenious  lady  to  Christianity,  who  had  been  converted  to  Judaism,  has  not  been  published. 
It  has  been  seen  by  several,  but  is  now  probably  irretrievably  lost,  tf-'- 

In  1675,  Limborch  published  the  valuable  works  of  his  master  Etienne  de  Courcelles,  an 
Arminian  divine.  Courcelles,  born  in  1586,  succeeded  Simon  Episcopius,  who  died  April  4, 
1643  ;  as  pastor  to  the  Church  of  the  Remonstrants  in  Holland,  but  Courcelles  dying  May  29, 
1659,  was  followed  by  Arnold  Poelemberg,  who  was  succeeded  on  his  death  in  1667,  by  Lim- 
borch ;  who  in  1693,  published  the  Sermons  of  Episcopius,  in  a  large  folio,  to  which  he  not  only 
prefixed  a  preface,  but  an  admirable  Life  of  Episcopius,  which  was  published  separately,  in 
8vo.  Arnoldus  Poelemburg.  the  writer  of  the  Life  of  Courcelles,  prefixed  to  his  works,  in 
1675  ;  was  a  learned  and  pious  man.  His  Dissertatio  Epistolaris  contra  Hoornbeekium,  and 
his  Examen  Thesium  Spanhemii,  are  fine  things.  His  preface  to  the  second  volume  of  Epis- 
copius's  Theological  Works,  is  excellent ;  and  in  a  valuable  book  called  Epistola  Prcestantium 
Virorum,  you  will  find  many  letters  by  Poelemburg,  that  are  extremely  beautiful,  in  respect 
of  the  charms  of  his  style,  and  his  judicious  manner  of  treating  his  subjects. 

*  This  gentleman  is  still  living,  [1756,]  and  greatly  to  be  honoured,  on  account  of  several 
other  excellent  writings,  in  defence  of  true  piety,  and  the  gospel  of  Christ.  His  Vindication 
of  the  History  of  the  Old  Testament  against  Dr.  Morgan.  His  Discourse  of  the  Nature  and  Use 
of  Miracles  ;  and  his  Answer  to  Anthony  Collins'  Grounds  and  Reasons  of  the  Christian  Religion, 
his  Re- examination  of  the  Witnesses  of  the  Resurrection,  his  Commentary  on  Joel,  his  two  sermons 
called  The  Notes  of  the  Church,  in  the  second  volume  of  the  Salter's  Hall,  Sermons  against 
Popery,  his  Sermon  on  Superstition,  and  two  funeral  sermons  ;  one  on  the  death  of  Dr.  Had- 
field,  ".For  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,  but  the  gift  of  God,  is  eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord."  Romans,  ch.  vi.  v.  23.  The  other  on  the  death  of  Mr.  Smyth.  "Who  shall 
change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  fashioned  like  unto  his  glorious  body,  according  to  the 
working  whereby  he  is  able  to  subdue  all  things  to  himself."  Phil.  ch.  iii.  v.  21,  are  all  fine 
pieces,  well  written,  with  a  sense  and  spirit,  that  renders  all  Mr.  Chandler's  performances 
very  valuable ;  and  therefore,  they  highly  merit  the  attentive  reading  of  every  gentleman. 
Some  other  things  written  by  this  minister  I  mentioned  in  my  Memoirs  of  Several  Ladies  of 
Great  Britain,  1755,  8vo.  p.  73,  to  which  the  reader  is  referred. 

Reader,  on  The  Resurrection  of  Jesus,  first  read  bishop  Sherlock's  Trial  of  the  Witnesses 
and  Tipping's  Defence  of  the  Trial :  then  take  up  Mr.  Chandler's  piece ;  and  when  you  have 
seriously  read  it,  see  what  Dr.  Pearce,  bishop  of  Rochester,  says  on  this  subject  in  the  first 
part  of  his  Four  Discourses  on  the  Miracles  ;  add  to  them  Grove's  Sermons  on  the  Resurrection, 
and  I  imagine,  these  fine  little  pieces  will  give  you  satisfaction  :  if  a  doubt  should  still  remain, 
open  Mr.  West's  fine  book  on  the  Article,  and  I  think  you  will  be  easy  as  to  this  point.  Re- 
duce the  strength  of  what  they  all  say  to  a  few  written  arguments,  and  keep  them  for  use. 


206  THE  LIFE  OF 


we  must  allow  the  authority  of  the  sacred  books  ;  the  few  places 
that  have  the  marks  of  weakness,  only  serve  to  convince  us,  that 
the  divine  writers  of  the  books  made  not  the  least  pretension  to 
perpetual  inspiration.  '  In  suo  sensu  abundat  aliquid  humanae 
fragilitatis  dissentio  habet ;  '  says  Jerome.  Human  frailty  and 
their  own  sense  honestly  appear,  when  there  was  not  an  occasion 
for  infallibility  and  miracle.  But  whenever  the  preachers  of  the 
New  Testament  were  wanted  for  the  extraordinary  purposes  of 
divine  providence,  they  were  made  superior  to  the  infirmities  of 
nature  :  their  understandings  were  enlarged  and  enlightened  and 
an  inspired  knowledge  rendered  them  incapable  of  error.  This 
in  my  judgment,  is  so  far  from  ruining  the  authority  of  scripture, 
that  it  is  the  greatest  confirmation  of  its  truth.  It  shews  the 

The  best  thing  of  Courcelles  is  his  Quaternio  Dissertationum  Theologicarum  in  which  he 
treats,  as  an  able,  rational  divine,  of  the  Trinity,  Original  Sin,  the  Knowledge  of  J  esus  Christ 
and  Justification.  The  next  in  value  to  this  are  his  Institutions  Religionis  Christiana  ; 
Diatribe  de  Jesu  Sanguinis  :  Vindicia  contra  Amyraldum:  and  Avis  d'un  Personage  Desin- 
teresse  :  in  which  he  acted  the  Mediator  between  the  Calvinists  aud  Arminians  ;  but  without 
success.  It  is  a  vain  attempt  to  unite  parties.  Every  party  is  a  church  and  infallible  in  its 
own  conceit.  Happy  they  that  are  of  no  party,  but  devoted  to  Jesus  Christ  only,  and  his 
plain  gospel ;  doing  their  best  to  be  pure  and  good,  even  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  pure 
and  good,  and  worshipping  God  the  Father  Almighty,  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  as  his  disciples, 
without  speculating,  inventing,  or  perplexing  ourselves  with  imaginations.  This  was  our 
Lord's  direction.  When  you  pray,  say,  Our  Father,  whatever  ye  ask  in  my  name,  without 
holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord.  Here  it  is,  gentlemen  of  the  laity,  as  the  doctors  call  us, 
and  will  have  us  to  be  an  inferior  tribe  to  them.  Adhere  to  these  few,  plain  things,  and  you 
will  be  for  ever  happy,  though  the  church  damns  you  by  bell,  book,  and  candle-light. 

The  learned  and  pious  Henry  Dodwell,  who  was  some  time  fellow  of  Trinity  College,  Dublin  ; 
and  Catnden  Professor  of  History  in  Oxford,  till  he  was  ejected  for  refusing  to  take  the  oath 
to  King  William  ;  was  born  at  Dublin,  in  October  1641.  His  works  are  the  following  :  Pro- 
legomena ad  Tractatum  Joannis  Stearnii  de  Constantio  in  Rebus  A  dversis.  Two  Letters  of  A dvice 
on  going  into  Holy  Orders,  and  Theological  Studies,  with  a  Tract  concerning  Sanchoniatho.  Con- 
siderations of  Present  Concernment,  of  how  far  the  Romanists  may  be  trusted  by  Princes  of  another 
Persuasion.  An  Account  of  the  Fundamental  principle  of  Popery,  and  an  Answer  to  six  queries 
proposed  to  a  Lady  by  a  Romish  Priest.  Separation  of  Churches  from  Episcopal  Government 
Schismatical,  and  a  Defence  of  it.  Dissertations  on  St.  Cyprian.  A  Dissertation  on  a  passage 
of  Lactantius.  A  Treatise  of  the  Priesthood  of  Laics.  Additional  Discourses  to  the  Posthumous 
works  of  Dr.  Pearson,  published  by  Dodwell.  Dissertations  on  Irenaus.  A  Vindication  of 
the  Deprived  Bishops,  Bancroft,  Lloyd,  Turner,  Ken,  Frampton,  White  ;  to  whom  succeeded 
Tillotson,  Moore,  Patrick,  Kidder,  Fowler,  Cumberland ;  and  a  Defence  of  the  Vindication. 
Four  Camdenian  Lectures,  called  Preelections  Academics.  The  Annals  of  Velleius  Paterculus, 
&c.  An  Account  of  the  Lesser  Geographers.  The  Lawfulness  of  Church  Music.  An  Account 
of  the  Greek  and  Roman  Cycle.  A  Letter  against  Toland,  relative  to  the  Canon  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment. The  Annals  of  Thucydides  and  Xenophon  ;  and  an  Apology  for  the  Philosophical  Works 
of  Cicero.  A  Letter  on  the  Soul  to  Mr.  Layton,  and  a  Letter  to  Dr.  Tillotson  on  Schism.  Two 
Dissertations  on  the  Age  of  Phalaris  and  Pythagoras.  An  Admonition  to  Foreigners  concerning 
Schism.  An  Epistolary  Discourse  to  prove  the  Soul  a  Principle  naturally  Mortal,  but  Immor- 
talized by  its  Union  with  the  Divine  Baptismal  Spirit :  that  the  Bishops  only  can  give  this  Immor- 
talizing Spirit :  and  that  Sacerdotal  Absolution  is  Necessary  for  the  Remision  of  Sins.  Three 
Treatises  in  Defence  of  the  Epistolary  Discourse. 

These  are  the  works  of  the  learned  Dodwell.  Some  are  very  valuable,  many  of  them  good 
for  nothing  ;  and  all  of  them  written  with  great  perplexity  ;  without  any  beauty  of  stile,  or 
any  order.  Dodwell' s  learning  was  very  great,  but  beside  the  singularity  of  his  notions,  which 
he  affected,  his  learning  lay  like  a  lump  of  puzzled  silk  in  his  head,  and  he  could  draw  few 
useful  threads.  Dodwell  in  the  fifty-second  year  of  his  age,  married  a  very  young  girl,  the 
daughter  of  a  gentleman,  in  whose  house  he  boarded  in  the  country ;  having  been  her  pre- 
ceptor for  five  years  ;  from  a  regard  to  her  fine  understanding,  and  by  her  had  ten  children. 
Two  sons  and  four  daughters  survived  him ;  one  of  the  sons  is  the  present  [1756]  rector  of 
Shottesbrook,  well  known  by  the  title  of  ORTHODOX  DODWELL,  on  account  of  his  writings  for 
the  fathers  against  Dr.  Middteton ;  and  to  distinguish  him  from  the  author  of  a  bad  book 
finely  written  [by  Tindal],  calied,  Christianity,  Founded  on  Argument. 

Dodwell,  the  elder,  died  at  Shottesbrook,  June  7,  1711 ;  aged  70. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  207 

honesty  of  the  preachers  of  the  new  Testament,  in  owning  they 
were  only  occasionally  inspired  :  and  when  the  incredulous  see 
the  ingenuous  acknowledgment  of  what  is  human  in  the  inspired 
writings,  the  truth  of  our  religion  must  be  more  conspicuous  to 
their  eyes  :  whereas  the  truths  of  the  Testament  are  hid  from 
them,  by  making  God  the  dictator  of  the  whole  ;  because  they 
think  that  impossible,  and  therefore  conclude,  the  Christian  re- 
ligion has  no  better  foundation.  In  short  there  is  no  reason  to 
believe  that  the  apostles  were  extraordinarily  inspired,  when 
they  say  it  not ;  and  when  their  discourses  have  in  them  no  mark 
of  such  like  inspiration.  It  is  sufficient,  says  Le  Clerc,  if  we  be- 
lieve that,  no  prophet  of  the  New  Testament  has  said  any  thing  in 
the  name  of  God,  or  by  his  order,  which  God  has  not  effectually 
ordered  him  to  say  ;  nor  has  undertaken  to  foretell  any  thing, 
which  God  had  not  indeed  truly  revealed  to  him  :  that  every 
matter  of  fact  related  in  the  books  is  true,  and  the  records,  in 
general,  the  truest  and  most  holy  history  that  ever  was  published 
amongst  men,  notwithstanding  the  writers  may  be  mistaken 
in  some  slight  circumstances  :  that  all  the  doctrines  proposed 
are  really  and  truly  divine  doctrines,  and  there  is  no  sort  of  reason- 
ing in  the  dogmatical  places  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  that  can  lead 
us  into  error,  or  into  the  belief  of  any  thing  that  is  false,  or  con- 
trary to  piety  •  that  Jesus  Christ  was  absolutely  infallible,  as 
well  as  free  from  all  sin,  because  of  the  Godhead  that  was  always 
united  to  him,  and  which  perpetually  inspired  him  ;  insomuch, 
that  all  he  taught  is  as  certain  as  if  God  himself  had  pronounced  ; 
and  in  the  last  place,  that  God  did  not  often  dictate  to  the  apostles 
the  very  words  which  they  should  use.  These  five  heads  are 
enough  to  believe.  We  allow  in  these  things  the  authority  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  and  they  who  affirm  more  are  deceived.  * 

*  Let  me  recommend  to  you,  reader,  two  large  volumes  written  in  an  epistolary  form  ;  the 
first,  is  Senlimens  de  Quelques  Theologiens  d'Hollande  sur  I'Histoire  Critique  du  Vieux  Testa- 
ment, et  de  Nouveau  Testament,  par  P.  R.  Simon,  and  the  second  Defense  des  Sentimens  contre 
Bolville.  These  are  fine  books  :?  my  reason  for  mentioning  them  is,  that  the  eleventh  and 
twelfth  letters  in  the  former,  are  on  the  Inspiration  of  the  Sacred  Writers  ;  and  the  tenth  and 
eleventh  letters  in  the  Defence,  &c.,  are  a  continuation  of  the  subject  in  a  very  extraordinary 
manner,  i.e.  by  giving  a  solid  demonstration  of  the  truth  of  our  religion,  without  interesting 
it  in  this  controversy,  by  clearly  proving,  that  the  Christian  religion  is  true,  though  the  apostles 
had  not  been  continually  inspired.  Le  Clerc  was  the  author  of  these  works  ;  and  the  letters 
here  spoken  of  were  translated  into  English,  and  printed  in  1690,  in  duodecimo.  Some  ac- 
count of  Le  Clerc  and  his  writings,  will  be  found  in  the  Memoirs  of  Several  Ladies  of  Great 
Britain,  pp.  356,  358. 

The  famous  Father  Richard  Simon,  who  wrote  the  Critical  History  of  the  Old  Testament, 
was  born  at  Dieppe,  i3th  of  May,  1638,  became  a  priest  of  the  Oratory,  and  was  the  author 
of  many  learned  works,  which  a  general  reader  should  be  no  stranger  to.  His  Lettres  Choisies, 
his  Bibliotheque  Critique,  and  his  Nouvelle  Bibliotheque  Choisie,  in  which  there  is  much  curious 
learning,  mixed  with  no  less  a  portion  of  prejudice,  are  still  worthy  of  commendation.  Simon 
was  a  great  man,  and  bad  as  the  Histoirt  Critique  is  hi  respect  of  design,  it  is  a  learned  work, 
and  of  great  use  to  those,  who  have  heads  fit  to  use  it.  Simon  died  at  Dieppe,  April  7,  1712. 
Herman  Witsius,  who  defended  Simon  in  his  Miscellanea  Sacra,  by  abusing  Le  Clerc,  was  a 
Doctor  in  Divinity  and  Professor  of  the  faculty  at  Francker,  and  beside  the  Miscellanea  Sacra, 
published  some  other  works,  entitled,  (Economia  Fcederum,  &c.,  Exercitaiiones  Sacra  in  Ora- 
ttonem  Dominicum  :  and  /Egyptiaca.  If  like  me,  reader,  you  have  nothing  else  to  do  but  read, 


208  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  The  case  is  the  same  as  to  differences,  want  of  exactness  and 
small  mistakes.  We  may  justly  celebrate  the  harmony  or  agree- 
ment of  the  sacred  writers  with  regard  to  the  principal  trans- 
actions by  them  mentioned,  as  a  strong  proof  of  the  integrity  of  the 
evangelists,  and  of  the  certainty  of  the  fact.  This  evinces  the 
truth  of  Christianity  :  but  in  matters  of  very  small  moment,  we 
must  allow  a  want  of  accuracy,  or  slips  of  memory,  or  different 
informations.  This  cannot  hurt  the  authority  of  the  gospels,  as 
it  proves  the  honesty  of  the  writers  by  shewing  they  did  not  com- 
pose by  compact  :  and  I  think,  that  some  of  the  evangelists  having 
been  eye-witnesses  of,  and  actors  in  the  facts  of  the  several  gos- 
pels ;  and  others  having  written  for  the  information  of  those  who 
had  got  a  perfect  information  of  all  things  from  the  very  begin- 
ning, is  an  argument  solid  and  rational  for  the  credibility  of  the 
evangelical  history.  It  is  sufficient.  I  am  sure  it  is  better  to 
allow  this,  than  to  say  the  writers  of  the  four  gospels  were  mere 
organs,  when  the  little  omissions  and  inaccuracies  observable  in 
their  records,  cannot  be  accounted  for,  if  we  suppose  that  God 
conveyed  the  facts  and  truths  through  them,  as  pipes,  to  the 
world.  It  must  needs  be  a  perfect  work,  which  the  spirit  of  God 
directs. 

I  advise  you  to  read  them  as  curious  things ;  there  is  learning,  though  not  much  good  in 
them.  See  M.  Mark's  Funeral  Oration  on  Witsius.  Simon's  Eloge  you  will  find  in  the  Journal 
Litter,  torn.  3.  p.  225.  And  if  you  have  a  critical  head  I  recommend  to  you  Father  Simon's 
Dissertation  Critique  against  Du  Pin's  Nouvelle  Bibliotheque  des  Auteurs  Ecclesiastiques ;  it  is 
an  arch  piece  of  criticism,  though  it  does  not  hurt  Du  Pin's  Bibliotheque. 

The  learned  and  excellent  Louis  Ellies  Du  Pin,  author  of  the  valuable  Bibliotheque  Eccle- 
siastique,  was  born  June  17,  1657,  and  died  at  Paris,  June  16, 1719,  aged  62.  He  wrote  many 
other  excellent  works:  but  the  Bibliotheque  Nouvelle  des  Auteurs  Ecclesiastique,  from  Jesus 
Christ  to  the  year  1710,  printed  in  thirty-five  volumes  in  8vo,  was  the  principal  labour  of  his 
life.  The  best  edition  in  English  of  this  fine  work,  is  that  printed  by  Grierson,  at  Dublin  in 
folio. 

The  other  works  of  Du  Pin  are  Dissertation  Preliminaire  ou  Prolegomenes  sur  la  Bible,  in 
three  volumes,  8vo.  De  Antigua  Ecclesice  Disciplina,  in  seven  Dissertations.  De  la  Puissance 
Ecclesiastique  et  Temporelle.  La  Doctrine  Chretienne  et  Orthodoxe.  Notes  on  the  Pentateuch 
Les  Pseaumes  en  Latin,  et  des  Notes,  in  8vo.  Version  Franfois  des  Pseaumes,  avec  des  Notes. 
A  Defence  of  his  Notes  on  the  Psalms. 

He  edited  in  folio,  the  Works  of  Optatus  Aser,  a  Numidian  bishop,  who  was  living  anno 
368  ;  to  this  edition,  he  prefixed  an  History  of  the  Donatists,  and  the  Sacred  Geography  of 
Africa.  He  also  superintended  the  edition  of  Gerson  s  works  in  five  volumes  folio  ;  to  which 
he  joined  a  work  of  his  own,  called  Gersoniana :  containing  the  Life  of  Gerson,  the  History 
of  this  Times,  and  the  doctrines  and  Lives  of  Contemporary  Authors.  Critique  sur  I  His- 
toire d  Apollonius  de  Tyanne.  Une  Lettre  sur  I'Ancienne  Discipline  touchante  la  Messe.  Un 
Traite  de  I' Excommunication.  Une  Histoire  de  I'Eglise  en  Abrege.  Une  Histoire  Profane 
depuis  les  Terns  les  Plus  Reculez  jusqu  a  Present.  Une  Analyse  de  I' Apocalypse,  avec  des  Dis- 
sertations sur  Differentes  Matieres  Curieuses.  Une  Histoire  du  xvii  Siecle.  Un  Traite  de 
I' Amour  de  Dieu  :  and  Bibliotheque  des  Historiens  Profanes.  Of  this  last  work,  he  did  not  pub- 
lish more  than  two  volumes,  which  have  been  translated  into  English  ;  and  so  far  as  he  went 
are  so  well  done,  that  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  he  did  not  finish  his  noble  design.  As  to  his 
edition  of  Basnage's  Histoire  des  Juifs,  without  mentioning  the  name  of  Basnage,  and  his 
making  many  alterations  in  it  contrary  to  its  author's  mind,  it  brought  on  him  a  severe  castiga- 
tion  from  Basnage  ;  as  I  mentioned  in  my  account  of  the  writings  of  that  writer,  in  my  Me- 
moirs of  Several  Ladies  of  Great  Britain,  p.  350 ;  where  I  referred  the  reader  to  a  fine  piece 
called  the  Histoire  des  Juifs  reclaim^. 

Note  :  next  to  the  Bibliotheque  des  Auteurs  Ecclesiastiques,  the  best  books  of  Du  Pin  are, 
his  Seven  Dissertations  de  Antiqua  Disciplina  Ecclesice  :  in  Latin,  in  one  volume,  4to,  and  his 
Puissance  Ecclesiastique  et  Temporelle:  in  one  volume,  8vo.  In  these  volumes,  he  works  the 
pope  in  a  fine  manner,  as  to  supremacy  and  infallibility. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  209 

"  As  to  St.  Mark  and  St.  John's  accounts,  I  see  no  contradiction 
in  the  relations.  St.  John's  says,  reckoning  as  the  Romans  did, 
as  he  was  then  in  Asia,  and  Jerusalem  destroyed  ;  that  at  the 
sixth  hour,  that  is,  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  brought  Jesus 
out  to  them  again,  the  last  time  and  strove  to  mitigate  the  rage 
of  the  Jews,  and  save  the  life  of  Christ  :  but  as  this  was  what  he 
could  not  do,  he  washed  his  hands  before  them  all  to  let  them 
know  he  was  not  the  author  of  the  innocent  man's  death  and 
after  that  delivered  him  up  to  the  soldiers,  to  be  crucified,  when 
they  had  scourged  him. 

"  When  all  this  was  done,  says  St.  Mark,  reckoning  in  the  Jewish 
manner  ;  it  was  the  third  hour,  that  is  nine  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  they  crucified  him.  This  perfectly  reconciles  the  two 
evangelists.  There  is  no  sign  of  a  contradiction  in  the  places. 

"  As  to  St.  Matthew  and  St.  Mark's  accounts  of  the  resurrection 
of  Jesus,  they  are  not  so  free  from  obscurity,  but  I  can  see  no 
inconsistency  in  them.  If  St.  Matthew  says,  '  the  Lord  appeared 
to  Mary  Magdalene,  and  the  other  Mary,'  that  might  be,  without 
a  contradiction,  though  St.  Mark  says,  '  he  appeared  first  to  Mary 
Magdalene.'  The  case  to  me  appears  to  be  this.  Mary  Mag- 
dalene, Mary  the  mother  of  James,  and  the  other  women,  went 
with  spices  and  ointments  to  embalm  the  body,  Sunday  the  28th 
of  April,  early  in  the  morning,  about  six  and  thirty  hours  after  it 
had  been  laid  in  the  sepulchre,  and  when  they  arrived  at  the  place 
found  not  the  body,  but  two  angels,  as  young  men  in  white  ap- 
parel, who  told  them  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  risen  to  life  again,  as 
he  himself  foretold,  and  therefore  they  must  make  haste  to  his 
apostles,  to  acquaint  them  with  the  news,  and  let  them  know  that 
they  would  see  him  in  Galilee,  according  to  his  prediction.  With 
these  joyful  tidings  the  women  hastened  away  to  the  eleven  dis- 
ciples, and  related  to  them  what  they  had  heard  and  seen.  The 
apostles  looked  upon  this  account  as  a  dream  or  vision  ;  but  how- 
ever, on  Mary  Magdalene's  assuring  Peter  and  John  apart  that, 
she  had  really  been  in  the  tomb,  and  found  it  empty  ;  from  whence 
it  was  most  certain,  that  either  Jesus  was  risen,  or  they  had  re- 
moved his  body  ;  these  apostles  ran  both  to  the  sepulchre,  and 
Mary  Magdalene  went  with  them.  Peter  and  John  then  saw 
that  it  was  as  she  had  affirmed,  and  after  they  had  viewed  the 
tomb,  the  clothes,  and  the  napkin,  returned  from  the  sepulchre, 
greatly  wondering  what  was  become  of  their  master's  body  ;  but 
Mary  continued  at  the  monument,  lamenting  very  greatly,  that 
she  could  not  see  Jesus  either  alive  or  dead,  and  while  she  thus 
bemoaned  herself,  the  Lord  appeared  to  her.  As  St,  Mark  says 
'  Jesus  appeared  first  to  Mary  Magdalene,  out  of  whom  he  had 
cast  out  seven  devils  ; '  and  after  she  had  reverenced  her  dear 
Lord  and  master,  he  bid  her  go  immediately  to  his  disciples,  and 
tell  them  she  had  seen  him  :  '  let  them  also  know  that  I  have 


2io  THE  LIFE  OF 


assured  thee,  I  shall  quickly  leave  this  world,  and  ascend  to  the 
God  and  Father  of  us  all,  my  Father  and  your  Father,  my  God 
and  your  God,  unto  those  happy  mansions  where  he  manifests 
his  presence  in  a  most  especial  manner  ;  there  to  receive  full  power 
over  all  things  both  in  heaven  and  earth,  and  to  prepare  a  place 
for  you  ;  that  where  I  am,  there  ye  may  be  also/  Mary  accor- 
dingly departed.  She  told  the  apostles  that  Jesus  had  appeared 
to  her,  and  acquainted  them  with  the  joyful  message. 

"  As  to  the  other  women,  it  is  evident  that  they  likewise  went  a 
second  time  to  the  sepulchre,  to  look  for  the  body  of  their  master, 
and  having  in  vain  searched  for  it,  were  returning  to  the  apostles 
to  let  them  know  they  had  enquired  to  no  purpose,  when  Jesus 
himself  met  them,  saying  '  All  hail.'  Does  not  this  reconcile 
Mark's  account  with  Matthew's  ?  I  think  so.  To  me  it  is  so 
very  plain  from  what  all  the  sacred  relators  have  declared  of  the 
matter,  that  I  am  astonished  how  Jerome  could  be  so  perplexed 
with  the  two  accounts,  as  to  say,  that  Mark's  account,  which 
constitutes  the  last  twelve  verses  of  his  gospel ;  might  be  rejected 
here  as  spurious,  because  it  was  found  only  in  a  few  copies  of  that 
gospel,  and  contradicted  the  other  evangelists.  Non  recipimus 
Marci  testimonium,  quod  in  raris  fertur  evangeliis,  praesertim  cum 
diversa  atque  contraria  evangelistis  ceteris  narrare  videatur. 

*'  In  the  next  place,  if  the  account  I  have  given  was  liable  to  any 
objection,  and  you  could  shew  me  that  it  was  not  the  truth  of  the 
case  ;  which,  at  present,  I  think  impossible  :  If  it  was  evident 
from  the  gospels,  that  the  women  were  not  a  second  time  at  the 
tomb,  but  that  Jesus  appeared  to  Mary  Magdalene  and  the  other 
women,  the  first  time  they  were  all  there  together,  yet  this  may 
be,  as  I  apprehend,  without  Mark's  contradicting  Matthew.  The 
meaning  of  the  words  of  Mark,  '  he  appeared  first  to  Mary  Magda- 
lene '  might  be,  that  as  she  and  the  women  were  returning  from 
the  monument,  to  tell  the  news  to  the  apostles,  Jesus  appeared  to 
them,  and  in  particular,  addressed  himself  to  Mary  Magdalene  ; 
directing  his  discourse  to  her,  and  speaking  familiarly  and  affec- 
tionately to  her,  to  distinguish  her  as  his  constant  follower  in  his 
life- time,  and  one  on  whom  he  had  worked  a  great  miracle  of  heal- 
ing. This,  I  imagine  might  very  justly  be  termed  "  he  appeared 
first  to  Mary  Magdalene.'  To  appear  first  to  any  one  of  a  com- 
pany, as  I  take  it,  is  to  come  up  to,  or  stand  before  some  particular 
person,  in  order  to  speak  to  such  person.  This,  in  my  imagination, 
removes  the  difficulty,  and  reconciles  Mark  to  Matthew  ;  but  to 
this  explication  I  prefer  the  woman's  being  a  second  time  at  the 
sepulchre  :  that  is,  Mary  Magdalene  a  second  time,  when  Peter 
and  John  went  to  the  tomb,  on  what  she  had  earnestly  told  them 
apart :  and  afterwards,  the  other  Mary,  Salome,  Joanna,  &c.  a 
second  time.  The  gospels,  in  my  opinion,  make  this  very  plain*". 

*  Long  since  my  conversation  with  Mr.  BERRISFORT,  I  have  seen  an  excellent  book,  written 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  211 

"What  has  been  said,"  rejoined  Mr.  BERRISFORT,  "seems 
plausible,  and  ought  to  satisfy  every  honest  man.  It  gives  me 
content  :  but  there  is  one  thing  still  that  perplexes  me,  and  that 
is  the  various  lections  of  the  New  Testament.  Do  they  not  hurt 
the  book  ?  " 

"  No :  "  I  replied,  "  notwithstanding  the  cry  of  infidels,  and 
that  some  learned  men  of  the  church  of  Rome  have  endeavoured 
to  shake  the  credit  of  the  two  testaments,  and  to  bring  the  people 
to  the  papal  chair,  to  know  the  truth,  on  account  of  the  various 
readings  ;  yet,  nevertheless,  they  are  rather  an  advantage  and 
security  to  the  sacred  text  than  a  detriment  to  the  written  word. 
They  corroborate  the  authority  of  the  sacred  book,  and  give  it 
additional  advantages. 

"  It  is  a  truth  that  there  are  many  various  readings  in  Terence, 
Livy,  Virgil,  Caesar,  Tlmcydides,  Homer,  Plutarch,  and  others, 
yet  who  denies  the  genuineness  and  great  use  of  those  noble  authors 
of  sense  and  politeness  ?  who  is  so  hardy  as  to  question  whether 
the  works  universally  ascribed  to  them  be  their  own  and  the  pro- 
duct of  those  immortal  wits  ?  On  the  contrary,  men  of  thought 
and  clear  heads,  conversant  in  those  studies,  will  agree  that 
those  authors  of  antiquity  of  which  there  are  the  most  various 
readings,  are  rendered  the  most  pure  and  correct.  And  why 
should  not  the  various  readings  of  the  Bible  rather  lead  men  of 
sound  learning  and  judgment  to  the  true  meaning  of  the  divine 
writers,  than  endanger  their  mistaking  their  genuine  language 
and  sense. 

"  Where  there  are  several  readings,  it  is  highly  probable  one 
of  them  is  the  original ;  and  it  is  easier  by  their  help  to  rectify 
the  mistakes  of  some  copies,  for  when  we  have  only  one  manu- 
script, there  may  be  scope  for  fancy  ;  but  none  for  judicious  com- 
parison and  well-grounded  criticism. 

"  Style  and  language  may  be  distinguished  by  a  happy  genius 
of  natural  sagacity,  improved  by  true  learning  and  proper  appli- 
cation, as  well  as  statues,  pictures  and  medals.  No  age  can 
counterfeit  Cicero,  Terence,  St.  Mark,  St.  John,  St.  Paul,  no  more 
than  a  counterfeit  picture,  or  medal,  can  be  imposed  on  and 
deceive  the  complete  masters  and  judges  of  those  ingenious  pro- 
fessions and  sciences. 

"  Secondly,  there  is  nothing  in  the  various  lections  that  affects 
the  essentials  of  religion,  or  can  imply  a  considerable  depravation 
of  the  copies,  that  alters  or  weakens  one  moral  contained  in  the 

by  the  learned  minister  of  Maybole,  in  which  he  labours,  through  several  4to.  pages,  from 
p.  213,  to  reconcile  Mark  and  Matthew,  by  virtue  of  a  second  visit  to  the  monument  by  Mary 
Magdalene,  when  the  Lord  appeared  first  to  her  ;  and  a  second  visit  to  the  sepulchre  by  the 
other  women,  when  Jesus  appeared  next  to  those  women ;  and  in  my  opinion,  he  has  proved 
it,  beyond  a  possbility  of  rational  reply.  See  Macknight's  Harmony.  Le  Clerc,  in  his  Har- 
mony, does  likewise  evince  the  thing  clearly  to  conviction. 


212  THE  LIFE  OF 


divine  books.  And  therefore,  though  it  cannot  with  reason  be 
supposed,  that  God  Almighty  should  work  perpetual  miracles  to 
prevent  the  mistakes  and  blunders  of  every  careless  or  corrupt 
hand,  of  those  numerous  transcribers  of  those  sacred  volumes,  no 
more  than  by  a  resistless  power  and  restraint  to  prevent  all  the 
errors  and  villainies  committed  by  free  and  accountable  crea- 
tures ;  yet  the  argument  receives  strength,  that  notwithstanding 
the  innumerable  variations,  mistakes  and  contradictions  in  small 
matters,  the  all-seeing  eye  of  Providence  has  so  watched  his  own 
blessed  and  glorious  revelations  to  mankind,  that  all  the  tran- 
scripts of  that  divine  volume  agree  in  the  essential  doctrine  and 
grand  design  of  Christianity.  This  is  a  truth  that  Infidels  and 
Papists  cannot  disprove. 

"  I  observe  in  the  last  place,  that  exclusive  of  the  care  of  Provi- 
dence, there  could  not  possibly  happen  any  detriment  to  our 
sacred  records  by  various  readings  :  for  though  in  an  innumerable 
number  of  copies  of  the  gospel  that  were  made  before  printing 
was  known,  and  in  the  many  translations  of  it  into  several  lan- 
guages, where  the  idioms  are  different,  and  the  phrase  may  be 
mistaken,  it  was  almost  impossible  there  should  not  be  various 
lections,  and  slips  of  amanuenses,  yet  the  sacred  volumes  in  the 
early  ages  of  Christianity,  were  disposed  into  innumerable  hands, 
translated  into  so  many  languages,  kept  in  so  many  libraries, 
churches,  and  in  private  families  of  believers,  and  so  carefully 
preserved  and  revered  as  the  authentic  deeds  and  charters  of 
eternal  happiness,  that  they  were  not  capable  of  being  falsified. 

"  Nor  could  those  inestimable  copies,  scattered  as  they  were 
over  the  then  discovered  world,  and  in  the  noble  language  so 
universally  known  and  acceptable,  be  liable  to  hazards,  by  sudden 
revolutions  and  public  disasters ;  because  those  convulsions 
and  surprizing  calamities,  could  not  happen  alike  in  every  country 
at  one  time. 

"  Neither  could  a  general  corruption  of  manners,  a  spirit  of 
profuseness  or  superstition,  nor  the  wicked  example,  and  strong 
influence  of  tyrannical  princes,  of  an  apostate  clergy,  and  atheis- 
tical ministers  of  state,  prevail  over  many  distant  and  indepen- 
dent nations,  to  endeavour  to  corrupt  and  destroy  their  sacred 
book. 

"  On  the  contrary,  we  are  to  consider  that  Christianity  was 
the  ecclesiastical  law  of  all  Christian  nations  under  the  sun. 
The  great  law  which  assured  to  them  their  religious  rights  and 
properties,  their  claims  and  titles  to  immortality,  to  the  inheri- 
tance of  the  saints  in  light,  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
that  fadeth  not  away,  reserved  for  them  in  the  heavens.  Which, 
to  every  one  that  deserves  the  name  of  man  and  Christian  must 
be  infinitely  more  dear  than  titles  to  lands  on  this  earth.  For 
men  are  naturally  more  watchful  in  a  matter  so  dear  to  them, 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  213 

and  every  believer  would  think  himself  concerned,  no  more  to 
let  a  change  of  consequence  to  pass  uncorrected,  than  the  children 
of  this  world,  who  are  wisest  in  their  generation,  would  overlook 
a  flaw  in  deeds  of  sale,  or  contract,  which  would  assert  their 
title,  and  evacuate  the  main  intention  of  making  such 
indentures. 

"  The  primitive  Christians  must  be  supposed  to  be  exceeding 
watchful  and  jealous  that  no  corruption  or  abuses  should  be  put 
on  that  sacred  book,  more  dear  and  valuable  to  them  than  all 
other  interests  and  treasures.  When  these  brave  champions  of 
the  cross  were  brought  to  the  tribunals  of  the  heathen  persecu- 
tors, and  were  commanded  to  deliver  their  Bible  to  the  flames, 
they  most  courageously  refused  it,  and  gave  their  bodies  to  be 
burnt  rather  than  the  divine  book. 

"  In  short,  it  is  easier  to  suppose,  a  new  Bible  or  a  new  statute 
book  might  be  imposed  at  this  time  of  day  upon  this  nation, 
without  discovery,  than  to  suppose  a  forged  gospel,  a  New 
Testament  corrupted  so  far  as  to  be  insufficient  for  the  good  ends 
Providence  designed  by  it,  could  be  imposed  on  the  universal 
Christian  world.  It  is  easier  to  suppose  that  any  forgery  might 
creep  into  the  municipal  law  of  any  particular  nation,  than  that 
all  the  nations,  whither  Christianity  is  spread,  should  conspire 
in  the  corruption  of  the  gospel  :  which  most  sacred  institution  is 
to  all  Christians  of  infinitely  greater  concern  and  value  than  their 
temporal  laws,  and  all  the  secular  immunities  and  privileges 
which  they  secure  to  them. 

"  And  without  such  a  wicked  concert,  or  such  an  astonishing 
carelessness  and  negligence  in  all  Christian  people  and  nations 
supposed,  which  would  be  a  monstrous  supposition.  No  such 
forgery,  no  such  alteration  of  essentials  could  pass  undiscovered 
in  the  gospel,  which  was  spread  in  the  hands,  hearts,  and 
memories  of  myriads  of  rational  devout  Christians  of  all  ranks, 
qualities  and  sex,  was  constantly  read  in  private  families,  fre- 
frequently  explained  in  schools,  and  daily  used  in  public  divine 
offices.  It  was  impossible  then  in  the  nature  of  things  that 
there  could  be  any  such  alterations  or  corruptions  introduced 
into  the  sacred  text  as  would  affect  its  doctrines,  morals,  or  truth 
of  its  historical  relations,  or  defeat  the  blessed  end  and  design 
of  the  gospel  revelation  in  any  period  of  time,  from  the  beginning 
of  Christianity  to  this  present  age.  * 

*  For  further  Satisfaction  on  this  Article  and  to  be  convinced  that  the  books  of  the  New 
Testament,  as  we  now  have  them,  are  the  word  of  God,  see,  reader,  Blackwell  on  The  Sacred 
Classics,  and  J  ones's  Method  of  Settling  the  Canonical  A  uthority  of  the  Testament.  By  the  way, 
if  Jacob  Hive,  who  stood  in  the  pillory,  the  soth  of  June,  1756,  for  writing  and  publishing  a 
thing  called  Modest  Remarks  on  (Dr.  Sherlock)  the  bishop  of  tendon's  Sermons  in  a  letter  to 
his  lordship,  had  read  with  attention  the  books  I  have  mentioned,  and  Dr.  Lardner's  Credi- 
bility of  the  Gospel- History,  he  would  not,  I  imagine,  have  composed  a  pamphlet,  that  mani- 
fests not  only  an  impious  licentiousness,  but  an  ignorance  at  once  great  and  despicable  in 
relation  to  the  subjects  he  pretended  to  write  on. 


214  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  And  if  from  this  unanswerable  way  of  reasoning  in  defence 
of  the  genuine  purity  of  the  sacred  scriptures,  we  look  next  upon 
the  Providence  of  the  Great  God  in  this  important  case,  is  it  not 
consonant  to  sound  sense,  and  the  notions  that  rational  creatures 
must  have  of  the  supreme  and  all-perfect  Being,  firmly  to  believe 
that  the  same  goodness  and  providence,  which  took  care  for  the 
writing,  would  likewise  take  care  for  preserving  these  inestimable 
books,  so  free  at  least  from  corruption,  that  they  might  be  suffi- 
cient for  the  gracious  ends  for  which  they  were  written,  and  be 
able  to  make  us  wise  to  salvation  ?  I  think  so.  To  me  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  since  infinite  goodness  was  pleased  to  reveal  a  religion, 
that  teaches  men  to  know  Jehovah  to  be  the  true  God,  and  to 
know  Jesus  Christ,  whom  he  hath  sent ;  his  providence  must  not 
only  preserve  the  book  on  which  the  doctrine  depends,  but  so 
secure  it  from  corruption  as  to  render  it  a  plain  rule  to  mankind. 
While  there  is  a  Providence,  the  Holy  Scriptures  will  remain  the 
sacred  and  unalterable  standard  of  true  religion." 

"  What  you  say,"  replied  Mr.  BERRISFORT,  "  seems  to  me  to  be 
true.  I  have  nothing  to  object.  But  once  more,  let  me  ask  you 
in  respect  of  the  ascension,  which  followed  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus,  is  it  not  very  strange,  that  this  is  not  mentioned  by  any 
of  the  apostles  who  are  said  to  have  been  eye-witnesses  of  the  face 
but  Luke  and  Mark  only  are  the  relators  of  the  thing,  who  were 
not  apostles,  and  had  all  they  wrote  from  the  information  of  the 
apostles.  If  the  apostles,  Matthew  and  John,  did  really  see  with 
their  eyes  the  Lord  Jesus  taken  up  from  them  into  heaven,  might 
we  not  expect,  that  they  would  write  the  history  of  that  still 
more  wonderful  transaction,  as  well  as  they  had  so  exactly  related 
the  resurrection  of  Jesus?  for  the  men  who  stood  gazing  up  into 
heaven,  after  the  Lord  was  carried  up  in  a  cloud,  as  Luke  says 
they  did,  not  to  mention  so  very  wonderful  and  interesting  an 
affair  in  their  gospels  ;  and  men  who  did  not  see  the  thing,  to 
relate  it  as  a  part  of  the  history  they  had  received  from  the 
apostles7;  this  is  what  astonishes  me.  If  it  was  a  truth,  surely  so 
important  a  one  ought  not  to  be  omitted  by  those  who  saw  it  : 
since  Matthew  and  John  did  write  histories  of  Christ,  why  should 
they  be  silent  on  this  grand  article,  and  take  no  notice  of  it  in 
their  records  ?  What  do  you  say  to  this  ?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  I  replied  ;  "  in  the  first  place,  nostrum  non 
est  providentiae  divinae  rationes  reddere.  Placuit  spiritu  sancto 
ita  dirigere  calamos  Matthaei  et  Joannis,  ut  narratione  resurrec- 
tionis  dominicae  evangelia  sua  concluderent.  Sic  refert  Lim- 
borch.  It  does  not  become  us  to  call  Providence  to  account,  or 
assign  the  ways  it  ought  to  act  in  :  infinite  wisdom  thought  fit 
to  appoint,  that  Matthew  and  John  should  end  their  gospels  with 
the  relation  of  our  Lord's  resurrection  :  the  resurrection  demon- 
strated the  divine  mission  of  Jesus  Christ.  To  it,  as  a  proof  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  215 

most  valid,  and  unexceptionable,  our  Lord  referred  the  Jews, 
and  therefore,  to  it,  as  the  great  fundamental,  Matthew  and  John 
appealed  :  they  proved  it  by  declaring  that  they  had  conversed 
with  Jesus  Christ  after  he  arose  from  the  sepulchre  ;  and  when 
that  was  proved,  there  could  be  no  dispute  about  any  thing  else. 
The  divinity  of  the  Christian  religion,  and  the  ascension  and 
glory  of  their  Lord,  rest  on  this  base.  All  the  blessings  likewise 
of  the  gospel,  regeneration,  our  resurrection,  and  life  eternal,  are 
ascribed  by  the  apostles,  Peter  and  Paul,  to  the  resurrection  of 
Christ,  and  for  these  reasons,  to  be  sure,  when  John  had  described 
his  Lord's  resurrection,  he  added,  '  and  many  other  signs  truly 
did  Jesus  in  the  presence  of  his  disciples,  which  are  not  written 
in  this  book.  But  these  are  written,  that  ye  might  believe  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  God,  and  that  believing,  ye  might 
have  life  through  his  name.'  We  must  allow  then,  that  the 
account  of  the  ascension  by  Luke  and  Mark,  may  be  authentic, 
though  not  mentioned  by  Matthew  and  John. 

"  In  the  next  place,  St.  John  is  not  totally  silent  as  to  the 
ascension  of  our  Lord.  In  his  sixth  chapter,  ver.  62,  it  is  written 
'  What  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  Man  ascend  up  where  he 
was  before  ?  '  and  in  the  /th  chapter,  ver.  39th.  '  But  this  spake 
he  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  that  believe  in  him  should  receive. 
For  the  Holy  Ghost  was  not  yet  given,  because  that  Jesus  was 
not  yet  glorified.'  Here  most  certainly  the  apostle  speaks  of 
the  ascension  of  his  Master,  and  though  he  did  not  write  the 
history  of  it,  yet,  not  obscurely,  says  the  thing  was  to  be  ;  which 
confirms  the  accounts  of  St.  Luke  and  St.  Mark.  And  since,  in 
the  i4th  and  I5th  chapters  of  St.  John,  ver.  16  and  26,  the 
apostle  declares,  that  Jesus  foretold  he  would  send  to  them,  his 
disciples,  the  Comforter  or  Holy  Spirit  from  the  Father,  after  his 
ascension  to  heaven  ;  and  that  the  apostles  demonstrated  by 
miracles,  after  the  death  of  their  Lord,  that  they  had  received 
this  Comforter  or  divine  Spirit,  it  follows,  that  the  ascension  and 
glorification  of  Jesus  is  as  much  asserted  and  confirmed  by  the 
gospel  of  St.  John,  as  if  that  apostle,  like  Luke,  had  wrote  the 
history  of  it.  This  is  evident  to  me,  and  I  think,  it  is  not  possible 
to  dispute  it. 

"  The  sum  of  the  whole  is,  that  the  prejudices  of  the  pious, 
and  the  arts  of  the  crafty  and  interested,  have  defaced  the  true 
gospel  of  Christ,  and  substituted  human  notions  and  conse- 
quences in  the  place  of  divine  revelation  :  but  let  us  strip  the 
sacred  records  of  the  false  glosses  and  systems,  with  which  the 
theorists  have  covered  it,  and  allow  the  enemy,  that  the  apostles, 
sometimes  wanting  the  unerring  spirit  of  their  Master,  were  liable 
to  slight  mistakes,  and  inadvertencies,  in  the  representation  of 
ordinary  events  :  that  they  did,  sometimes,  by  too  great  an 
affection  for  their  Master's  doctrine,  strain  some  things,  and  cite 


216  THE  LIFE  OF 


prophecies  that  did  not  relate  to  Jesus  in  any  sense  at  all ;  * — 
let  this  be  done  to  remove  incumbrances,  to  clear  up  difficulties, 
and  to  answer  objections  otherwise  unanswerable,  and  the 
writings  of  the  apostles  will  appear  to  be  a  globe  of  light  from 
heaven  ;  to  irradiate  the  human  understanding,  and  conduct  the 

*  Let  us  now  see,  says  a  great  man  and  upright  Christian,  what  use  the  enemies  of  Chris- 
tianity have  endeavoured  to  make  of  the  prophecies,  as  the  evangelists  apply  them  ;  and  what 
answer  the  truth  of  the  case  will  oblige  us  to  give  to  them. 

They  assert  that  the  foundation  of  the  Christian  religion  is  laid  by  the  evangelists,  on  the 
proof  of  this  point,  that  the  mission  and  character  of  Jesus  were  foretold  by  the  prophets  ; 
and  that  the  validity  of  this  proof  depends  entirely  on  the  force  of  those  particular  prophecies 
which  the  same  evangelists  have  applied  to  the  illustration  of  it,  in  their  several  gospels. 
Upon  this  hypothesis,  the  enemy  undertakes  to  shew,  that  the  prophecies,  so  applied  by  them 
do  not  at  all  relate  to  Jesus,  in  their  proper  and  literal  signification,  but  only  in  secondary, 
typical,  and  figurative  sense  :  but  then  this  way  of  interpreting  them  is  equivocal,  precarious 
and  incapable  of  yielding  any  rational  satisfaction ;  and  of  consequence  Christianity  has  no 
foundation.  Such  is  the  use  the  enemy  make  of  the  prophecies  applied  by  the  evangelists. 

In  truth,  if  we  admit  that  Christianity  has  no  other  foundation  than  what  its  enemies  assign 
it,  it  might  not  perhaps  be  difficult  for  them  to  make  good  the  rest :  for  upon  that  supposition, 
many  objections  are  thrown  in  our  way,  which  it  is  scarce  possible  to  get  rid  of.  But  while 
they  fancy  themselves  to  be  demolishing  foundations,  they  are  battering  only  such  parts  of 
the  edifice  as  serve  for  its  ornaments  rather  than  its  support :  and  had  the  enemy  gone  farther, 
and  shewn  that  some  of  the  prophecies  cited  by  Matthew  did  not  relate  to  Jesus  in  any  sense 
at  all,  they  would  have  done  no  more  than  what  some  of  the  primitive  fathers,  as  well  as 
modern  critics  had  done  before  them,  without  designing  or  doing  the  least  hurt  to  Christianity. 

Jesus  declared  in  general  that  Moses  and  the  prophets  had  testified  of  him  :  but  since  the 
evangelists  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  give  a  precise  account,  or  deduction  of  the  several 
prophecies,  which  were  alleged  by  him  in  proof  of  that  declaration,  it  is  sufficient  to  take  it 
just  as  we  find  it,  without  thinking  ourselves  obliged  to  defend  all  the  particular  instances 
or  applications,  which  were  offered  afterwards  in  support  of  it  by  fallible  men.  Whiston.  in 
his  Literal  Accomplishment  of  the  Scripture  Prophecies,  has  produced  forty-five  prophecies 
from  the  Old  Testament,  which  are  cited  in  the  New,  in  proof  of  the  Messiahship  of  Jesus,  and 
which  he  declares  to  have  been  clearly  and  directly  fulfilled,  without  the  least  pretence  of  any 
reply  from  any  author  whatsoever.  Now  if  any  number  of  these,  how  small  soever,  are  found 
to  be  as  clearly  accomplished,  as  he  takes  them  to  be,  they  are  sufficient  to  support  the  au- 
thority of  the  gospel,  though  all  the  rest  were  thrown  aside. 

But  to  say  the  truth,  the  grounds  of  our  faith,  in  these  latter  ages  of  the  church,  do  not  lie 
in  the  particular  interpretations  of  prophecies,  made  by  men,  who  might  be  mistaken,  and 
who,  as  Jerome*  says  more  than  once,  by  trusting  to  their  memories,  in  citing  these  very 

,  and  sometimes  in  the  sense  of  them.  Nor 
to  convert  men  to  the  faith  of  Christ  as 

ive' already"  embraced  it :  serving  chiefly,  as  St.  Paul  expresses  it,  not 
to  them  who  believed  not,  but  to  them  who  believe. 

The  sum  then  of  this  article  is,  that  upon  the  first  promulgation  of  the  gospel,  while  the 
conversion  of  the  Jews  was  the  principal  object  of  our  Saviour's  ministry,  and  afterwards  of 
his  apostles,  the  argument  of  prophecy  was,  of  all  others,  the  best  adapted  to  persuade,  and 
conquer  the  prejudices  of  that  nation.  But  in  preaching  the  gospel  to  the  Gentiles,  not 
acquainted  with  the  Jewish  scriptures,  nor  tinctured  with  anyjewish  prejudices,  the  testimony 
of  its  miracles,  and  the  purity  of  its  doctrines,  were  the  most  affecting  proof  of  its  divine 
origin.  Yet  when  by  the  evidence  of  these,  people  had  once  received  the  Christian  faith, 
and  acquired  a  competent  knowledge  of  it,  they  would  then  perceive,  that  the  argument  of 
prophecy  was  a  part  also  of  the  evidence,  essentially  necessary  to  complete  the  demonstration 
of  its  truth. 


wno,  as  j  erome^  says  more  man  once,  oy  irusung  u 
prophecies,  were  frequently  mistaken  in  the  words,  and 
is  the  evidence  of  prophecy  so  proper  in  these  days,  tc 
to  confirm  those  who  have  already  embraced  it :  servii 


*  St.  Jerome  is  one  of  the  four  great  doctors  of  the  Latin  church,  who  support  the  magnifi- 
cent bronze  chair  of  St.  Peter,  in  this  saint's  church  in  Rome.  The  other  three  doctors  are 
St.  Augustin,  St.  Ambrose,  and  St.  Gregory.  Great  might  be  the  piety  of  those  doctors,  for 
any  thing  I  can  say  to  the  contrary,  but  this  is  certain,  from  their  writings,  that  they  did  not 
understand  Christianity. 

St.  Jerome,  born  at  Stridon,  in  Dalmatia,  in  the  year  340 ;  was  a  hot,  abusive  man,  and 
quarrelled  even  with  St.  Augustin.  In  his  disputes,  he  is  more  like  a  madman  than  a  saint 
and  ever  in  the  wrong.  He  wrote  comments  on  all  the  prophets,  Ecclesiastes,  St.  Matthew, 
and  the  epistles  to  the  Galatians,  Ephesians,  Titus,  and  Philemon  ;  but  they  are  sad  stuff  in 
respect  of  some  modern  performances.  Compare  them  with  the  comments  of  Dr.  Clarke 
Locke,  Dr.  Benson,  and  others  of  our  country,  and  you  will  see  what  a  poor  creature  this 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  217 

sons  of  men  to  the  realms  of  bliss.  Their  lessons  are  the  dictates 
of  the  Spirit  of  God  :  their  sanctions  are  of  such  force,  in  a  cer- 
tainty of  future  judgment  and  retribution,  that  they  incline  a 
rational  to  have  a  serious  regard  to  them. 

"  In  a  word,  the  religion  of  nature  is  perfect,  but  men  are  im- 
perfect, and  therefore  it  pleased  God  to  send  our  Saviour  into  the 
world,  to  republish  the  law  of  reason  by  his  preaching,  and  in  the 
writings  of  the  apostles,  and  by  him  to  give  many  motives  to 
men,  to  incite  them  to  perform  their  duty,  as  set  forth  in  his  written 
laws,  and  in  the  more  striking  example  of  our  Lord,  his  only- 
begotten  Son.  Let  us  be  Christians  then,  my  dear  BOB,  and 
adore  the  divine  goodness,  for  the  life  eternal  prepared  for  the 
righteous,  as  declared  in  the  sacred  records,  Let  us  hearken  to 
the  apostles,  who,  knowing  the  terror  of  the  Lord,  persuade  men, 
and  so  govern  and  conduct  ourselves  by  the  rules  of  revelation 
that  when  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  who  appeared  in  the  world  to 
redeem  us,  will  return  to  judge  us  by  the  gospel,  we  may  ascend 
with  him  to  the  unbounded  regions  of  eternal  day,  and  in  ever- 
blooming  joys,  live  for  ever  in  the  presence  of  God.  I  have  done. 
Where  you  think  I  am  wrong,  you  will  be  pleased  to  say." 

My  friend  replied,  that  he  had  no  objection  to  make  :  he  was 
quite  satisfied  ;  and  obliged  to  me  for  my  advice.  Thus  ended 
the  conversation  between  BOB  BERRISFORT  and  JACK  BUNGLE. 

saint  was  in  respect  of  our  English  divines  and  philosophers.  He  translated  the  Old  Testament 
into  Latin  from  the  Hebrew  ;  without  understanding  the  Hebrew  well :  and  he  corrected  the 
antient  Latin  version  of  the  New  Testament.  This  is  far  from  being  correct,  though  the  church 
of  Rome  has  decreed  it  to  be  infallible,  and  appointed  it  to  be  used  in  the  church.  The  best 
and  most  useful  thing  this  saint  hath  written  is  his  Treatise  of  Illustrious  Men  ;  which  contain 
a  summary  of  the  lives,  and  the  titles  of  the  books,  written  by  ecclesiastical  authors,  to  kis 
time.  The  next  in  worth  to  this,  in  my  opinion,  is  his  book  of  letters  ;  in  which  are  several 
fine  moral  sentiments,  and  much  good  advice  ;  though  his  criticisms  on  the  Bible  in  this  work 
are  weak  enough  He  will  have  it,  that  it  was  wisdom,  and  not  a  young  woman,  that  David 
took  into  bed  to  him,  when  he  was  old  and  cold  ;  which  is  a  mere  fancy,  that  plainly  contra- 
dicts the  history  of  that  affair  in  the  Bible.  But  St.  Jerome,  in  his  Letters,  tells  us,  he  ab- 
horred a  woman,  as  much  as  Mrs.  Astel  did  a  man ;  detesting  and  blackening  matrimony 
and  a  wife,  to  extol  and  exalt  that  whim  of  his  brain  virginity.  He  owns  that  he  beheld 
with  detestation  every  pregnant  woman  though  rendered  so  in  the  holy  matrimonial  bed 
and  could  not  bear  looking  at  her,  but  as  he  reflected  that  she  carried  a  virgin.  He  was  con- 
sequently a  fit  supporter  of  St  Peter's  chair.  Of  the  works  of  St.  Jerome,  who  died  in  the 
year  420,  aged  80,  there  is  a  good  edition,  in  nine  volumes,  in  folio,  printed  at  Paris,  in  1623  ; 
but  the  later  one,  edited  by  Martianay,  the  Benedictin,  is  much  finer  and  more  valuable. 

St.  Ambrose  is  the  next  supporter  and  saint.  This  holy  prelate,  born  at  Treves  in  the  year 
340,  was  a  great  contender  for  tritheism  and  the  rights  of  the  church,  and  wrote  many  worth- 
less pieces  for  them  and  persecution.  He  acted  an  insolent  and  senseless  part,  when  the 
emperor  Theodosius,  in  the  affair  of  Thessalonica,  ordered  the  seditious  to  be  destroyed 
and  died  soon  after,  in  April  anno  397,  "the  greatest  and  most  blessed  of  men,"  so  say  Paulinus 
and  Baronus  who  have  both  written  his  life.  The  best  edition  of  his  works  is  that  enriched 
with  many  notes  by  the  Benedictins,  and  printed  at  Paris  in  1691,  in  two  volumes  folio. 

As  to  St.  Gregory  of  Neocaesarea,  and  the  four  other  saints  of  the  name,  to  wit,  the  two 
Nazianzens,  Nysse,  and  Armenia,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  mention  them  in  the  next  volume 
of  my  journal,  and  therefore  shall  here  only  observe,  in  respect  of  Neocaesarea,  usually  called 
Thaumaturgus,  or  the  wonder-worker,  that  he  died  in  the  year  265,  according  to  Burpnius, 
and  the  saint  of  Armenia,  or  into  270,  according  to  Fabricius  :  and  that  the  best  edition  of 
his  works  that  by  Gerard  Vossus,  printed  at  Mayence  in  1604,  4to.  His  pieces  were  likewise 
printed  in  a  collection  of  things  written  bv  some  minor  saints  at  Paris,  in  i6ar  in  a  single  vol- 
ume, in  folio. 


2i8  THE  LIFE  OF 


The  third  day  of  July,  I  left  Yeoverin  Green,  and  set  out  again 
for  Ulubrae,  to  get  my  horses  and  portmanteau,  but  proceeded 
now  on  foot ;  because,  by  climbing  over  a  high  mountain,  which  it 
was  impossible  for  a  horse  to  ascend,  and  then  walking  half  a  mile 
over  a  shaking-bog,  where  a  beast  could  not  go,  I  was  to  save 
many  miles  ;  and  besides,  Mr.  BERRISFORT  was  so  obliging  as  to 
send  one  of  his  servants  back  with  Mr.  HARCOURT'S  horses,  which 
I  knew  not  which  way  to  return.  With  my  pole  in  my  hand  then 
I  set  out,  and  after  I  had  bade  adieu  to  my  friends,  who  walked 
with  me  a  couple  of  miles  to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  I  began  to  mount 
the  Alp  at  six  in  the  morning,  and  at  eight  arrived  on  its  summit. 
Here  I  had  a  fine  road,  due  south,  for  an  hour,  till  I  came  to  a 
very  steep  descent,  that  led  to  the  shaking-bog,  as  my  paper  of 
directions  informed  me.  It  was  an  ugly  way  down,  and  the  better 
to  go  it,  I  resolved  first  to  breakfast,  and  bid  TIM  see  what  he  had 
got  in  his  wallet.  Immediately  he  produced  a  roast  fowl,  a 
manchet,  and  a  bottle  of  cyder,  and  among  some  trees,  on  the 
brow  of  a  hill,  by  the  side  of  a  spring,  that  ran  off  the  way  I  was 
to  go,  I  sat  down  to  the  repast.  I  gave  my  lad  half  the  bird, 
and  the  other  half  I  dispatched  in  a  very  short  time,  drank  a  pint 
of  cyder,  and  was  on  my  feet  again.  I  then  began  to  descend, 
and  in  an  hour  made  a  shift  to  get  to  the  bottom,  though  the  way 
was  bad  ;  being  very  steep,  wet,  and  slippery.  I  came  to  a  dirty 
lane,  about  two  hundred  yards  long,  and  that  ended  at  the 
shaking-bog. 

This  kind  of  bog  I  take  to  be  an  abyss  of  standing  waters 
covered  with  a  thin  arch  of  earth,  that  is,  a  water  communicating 
with  the  abyss  so  covered,  or  weakly  vaulted  over  :  and  of  this 
opinion  I  find  the  right  Reverend  Erich  Pontoppidan  is,  in  his 
Natural  History  of  Norway.  The  bishop  does  not  tell  his  reason 
for  so  thinking  ;  but  mine  is,  that  I  have  seen  in  Ireland  the  arches 
of  several  of  those  bogs  broken,  and  a  deep  unfathomable  water 
at  some  distance  from  the  arch.  They  are  very  dangerous, 
frightful  places,  and  many  of  them  play  up  and  down,  like  a  long 
plank,  in  a  very  surprising  manner. 

To  go  half  a  mile  over  such  a  bog,  and  the  most  elastic  of  them 
I  had  ever  tried,  was  that  I  did  not  much  like  ;  though  the  author 
of  my  paper  of  directions,  an  old  servant  of  Mr.  BERRISFORT, 
affirmed  it  was  quite  safe  ;  and  as  to  TIM,  he  would  not,  on  any 
consideration  cross  it.,  He  was  positive  we  should  sink  beyond 
recovery.  What  to  do  then,  was  the  question  ?  I  tried  for  some 
time  to  go  round  the  bog,  at  the  bottom  of  the  enclosing  mountains, 
but  that  was  soon  found  impossible,  and  therefore,  it  only  re- 
mained, to  go  up  again  to  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  try  onwards  for 
some  other  descent  beyond  the  bog.  We  did  so,  and  after  walking 
two  hours  south-west,  at  a  good  rate,  had  a  view  of  a  deep  glen, 
to  which  we  descended  by  an  easy  slope,  and  marched  through  it, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  219 

to  the  west,  and  north-west  for  two  hours,  till  it  ended  at  a  wood. 
This  we  passed  without  any  difficulty,  as  there  were  walks  cut 
through  it,  and  came  out  into  a  broad  valley,  that  had  a  river  very 
near  us,  and  a  sweet  pretty  cottage  on  the  margin  of  the  flood. 
I  went  up  to  the  house  to  ask  my  way,  and  found  at  the  door 
three  men,  the  eldest  of  whom  seemed  to  be  about  thirty  years 
old.  They  asked  me  very  civilly  to  walk  in,  and  seemed  to 
wonder  not  a  little  at  seeing  me  and  my  man,  in  such  a  place,  with 
our  poles  in  our  hands. 

These  men  were  three  brothers  and  Roman  catholics.  Two  of 
them  were  gentlemen-farmers,  who  lived  together,  and  jointly 
managed  the  country  business.  The  eldest  was  a  Franciscan 
friar,  who  came  to  visit  them.  Their  good  manners,  in  their 
plain  dress,  surprised  me  ;  and  their  benevolence  made  me  wonder 
a  great  deal  more.  Their  maid  laid  a  clean  cloth  in  a  minute,  and 
brought  some  cold  roast  beef,  good  bread,  and  fine  ale.  They 
bid  me  heartily  welcome  many  times,  and  were  so  frank  and 
generous,  so  cheerful  and  gay  ;  especially  the  eldest  of  the  farmers, 
who  sang  several  good  songs  over  a  bowl  of  punch  after  dinner, 
that  I  could  not  think  of  leaving  them  immediately,  if  I  had 
known  my  road,  and  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  stay  several  days. 
A  friendship  commenced  immediately  between  the  eldest 
FLEMING  and  me  ,  and  there  was  not  one  cold  or  cross  minute  in 
it  for  the  few  years  that  he  lived.  He  loved  me  as  his  brother 
from  the  first  day  he  saw  me,  and  I  had  so  great  a  regard  for  him, 
that  with  a  sorrow  I  cannot  help,  I  think  of  his  death  to  this  day. 
How  to  account  for  such  sudden  passions  I  know  not,  and  have 
always  appeared  to  me  very  strange.  FLEMING  was  a  man  of  a 
bright  and  very  extraordinary  understanding,  though  no  more 
than  a  farmer,  had  a  most  happy  temper,  a  generosity  too  great 
for  his  fortune,  and  was  for  ever  cheerful  and  free  ;  but  these 
however  pleasing,  could  not  be  the  cause  of  the  sudden  and  lasting 
friendship  between  us,  as  I  have  been  acquainted  with  men  of 
fortune  who  equalled  him  in  these  respects,  and  yet  they  never 
struck  me  more  than  for  the  present  time.  Whatever  might  be 
the  cause,  the  fact  is  certain.  No  two  men  ever  liked  one  another 
more  than  we  did  from  the  first  hour  of  our  acquaintance,  and 
as  I  had  the  happiness  of  converting  him  to  the  protestant 
religion,*  it  is  possible,  that  might  cement  a  friendship,  which, 

*  The  arguments  I  used  to  make  a  convert  of  FLEMING,  the  reader  will  find  in  the  appendix 
of  this  journal,  among  other  interesting  matters,  that  are  too  long  to  be  inserted  in  the  story 
of  my  life.  I  shall  print  them  in  hopes  that  they  may  be  of  service  to  some  other  soul.  They 
were  introduced  the  first  day  I  was  at  FLEMING'S  house,  by  his  saying  to  me,  after  dinner, 
"  Dear  sir,  will  you  give  me  leave  to  ask  you,  by  what  strange  cause  it  has  happened,  that  you 
are  thus  travelling  on  foot  in  this  un visited  country.  It  must  be  an  extraordinary  affair  I 
am  sure.  "Sir"  I  replied,  "my  case  is  very  uncommon.  I  do  not  believe  that  any  thing 
like  it  ever  was  before,  and,  perhaps,  such  another  affair  may  never  happen  again."  I;little 
thought  then,  that  I  should  afterwards  meet  with  two  instances  of  the  same  kind  of  thinking 
and  resolution  in  the  female  world,  to  wit,  Miss  Chawcer  aad  Miss  J  anson  whose  histories  I 


220  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  sameness  of  disposition  had  helped  to  produce.  This  is  all  I  can 
say  as  to  the  reason  of  this  matter.  In  respect  of  the  thing,  it 
was  of  the  greatest  service  to  me.  My  new  acquired  friend 
assisted  me  to  the  utmost  of  his  power,  in  the  accomplishment 
of  my  designs,  in  that  part  of  the  world  I  then  was.  I  had  his 
head,  his  hand,  and  his  house  at  my  service,  and  by  them  I  was 
enabled  to  give  a  roundness  to  a  system,  that  was  too  happy  to 
last  long. 

But  as  to  the  shaking-bog  I  was  to  have  passed  to  go  to  the 
gentlemen  at  Ulubrae,  FLEMING  told  me,  I  had  had  a  fortunate 
escape  in  not  venturing  over  it ;  for,  though  it  be  passable  in  one 
narrow  way,  about  a  yard  broad,  yet  a  stranger  to  the  bog  must 
perish  in  attempting  to  cross  ;  as  the  timber  causeway  that  was 
made  over  the  great  marsh,  time  out  of  mind,  is  invisible  in  many 
places,  and  one  sinks  for  ever,  the  moment  he  steps  off  that  way 
"but  I  will  shew  you  an  easy  road,"  continued  my  new  friend,  to  the 
gentleman's  house,  to  whom  I  am  no  stranger,  and  will  make  you 
acquainted  with  some  passes  through  the  mountains,  that  will 
render  it  easier  riding  over  this  country  than  you  have  found  it." 
He  did  so,  and  by  his  guidance  I  arrived  at  Ulubrae,  the  7th  day 
of  July  ;  being  the  I7th  day  from  the  morning  I  left  the  philoso- 
phers. The  gentlemen  were  startled  at  the  sight  of  me,  as  they 
concluded  I  had  perished,  and  had,  as  they  assured  me,  mourned 
my  sad  fate  :  they  were  impatient  to  hear  the  adventure  of  the 
mountain,  and  by  what  strange  means  I  was  jumbled  all  the  way, 
to  TOM  FLEMING'S  ;  who  lives  so  far  from  the  hill  I  went  into  ;  and 

have  given  in  my  Memoirs  of  Several  Ladies  of  Great  Britain,  p.  41-64.  The  critics,  I  remember, 
had  some  doubts  as  to  the  reality  of  these  two  cases  :  but  to  this  I  answer,  that  they  may  as 
well  doubt  the  truth  of  my  own  story  ;  and  from  thence  proceed  to  deny  the  reality  of  my 
existence ;  because  several  incidents  in  my  life  are  strange,  and  such  as  they  have  not  heard 
of  before.  It  is  not,  however,  in  the  power  of  criticism  to  invalidate  what  I  deliver  as  facts. 
I  will  tell  you  my  story  :  and  so  began  to  relate  the  religious  dispute  between  my  father  and 
me,  and  how  it  was  brought  to  a  head  by  the  devil  possessed  by  a  woman,  called  a  mother-in- 
law.  As  the  glass  went  round,  I  let  them  know,  how  a  man  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  his 
age,  forsook  all  for  the  true  gospel  of  Christ,  and  at  a  time  of  life,  when  very  few  think  of  reli- 
gion, resolved  to  confess  himself  a  Christian  deist,  to  all  whom  it  concerned,  if  it  brought  him 
to  want,  and  from  a  morsel  of  bread  to  the  grave.  So  far  I  was  heard  without  interrupting 
though  I  declaimed  by  the  way  against  the  dreadful  heresy  of  three  gods  :  but  not  thinking 
I  was  in  company  with  catholics,  for  then  I  imagined  that  such  subjects  of  the  king  of  Eng- 
land were  only  to  be  found  in  Ireland,  I  brought  into  my  oration  against  false  religion,  the 
diabolism  of  popery,  and  gave  it  several  thrusts  ;  as,  indeed,  I  always  do,  whenever  it  comes 
in  my  way ;  for,  good  reader — though  I  love  the  catholic  men  and  women,  because  I  am  a  friend 
to  man,  and  nearly  related  to  many  Romanists  of  great  fortune  ;  yet,  popery  I  abhor ;  and 
look  upon  it  as  the  greatest  woe  that  ever  the  devil  introduced  into  this  lower  world,  to  ruin 
mankind  ;  but  when  I  began  to  touch  this  string,  and  was  raking  Rome  papal  fore  and  aft, 
FLEMING  the  friar,  changed  colour  several  times,  which  I  took  notice  of,  and  knew  not  what 
to  ascribe  to,  unless  he  was  very  sick  ;  and  at  last  he  told  me,  by  way  of  game,  that  I  was 
an  eloquent  young  gentleman,  and  had  a  flow  of  language  ;  but  my  mistakes  as  to  the  church 
of  Rome  were  very  great,  and  he  begged  leave,  as  he  was  a  priest  of  the  holy  Roman  church, 
to  set  me  right  [in  my  notions.  This  was  a  great  surprise  to  me.  It  struck  me  silent  for 
some  minutes.  At  last,  however,  I  told  the  gentlemen,  that  I  asked  their  pardons  for  making 
so  free  wth  their  religion,  which  I  should  not  presume  to  have  done,  but  that  I  thought  they 
had  been  protestants  ;  that  as  to  his  offer  to  set  me  right,  he  did  me  great  honour,  and  I  would 
with  pleasure  hear  him.  I  would,  to  be  sure,  be  a  convert  to  the  strength  of  his  arguments, 
if  unanswerable,  or  offer  such  reasons  for  remaining  a  protestant,  as  must  satisfy  a  rational 
roan.  He  then  went  on,  and  my  reply  followed. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  221 

the  road  from  it  to  his  house,  scarce  passable  for  a  mortal.  "  In- 
form us,  we  beseech  you,  how  these  strange  things  came  to 
pass." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  I,  "  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  your 
concern  for  me,  and  will  tell  you  my  story  as  soon  as  we  have 
dined,  as  the  servants  are  now  bringing  the  dishes  in,"  and 
accordingly,  when  we  had  done,  I  gave  them  a  relation  in  detail. 
They  were  greatly  pleased  with  my  history,  and  much  more,  to 
have  me  returned  to  them  in  safety  again.  If  they  had  not  seen 
me,  they  said,  they  could  not  believe  the  thing,  and  they  would 
order  the  whole  account  to  be  entered  in  the  journal  of  their 
society,  as  the  most  extraordinary  case  they  had  ever  known  :  or 
perhaps,  should  ever  hear  related  again.  Their  secretary,  as 
directed,  wrote  it  down  in  their  book  of  transactions,  and  it 
remains  in  their  records  to  this  day.  In  short,  reader,  these 
worthy  men  were  so  greatly  rejoiced  at  my  being  alive,  when  they 
thought  me  for  certain  among  the  dead,  that  they  put  the  bottle 
round  in  a  festal  manner  after  dinner.  We  drank  and  laughed  till 
it  was  midnight. 

The  8th  day  of  July,  I  took  my  leave  of  the  gentlemen  at  Ulubrae, 
and  proceeded  to  the  East-riding  of  Yorkshire,  to  look  for  Miss 
MELMOTH.  FLEMING  came  with  me  as  far  as  Eggleston  to  shew  me 
the  passes  between  the  hills,  and  the  best  ways  over  the  mountains. 
Many  vast  high  ones  we  crossed,  and  travelled  through  very 
wonderful  glens.  Several  scenes  were  as  charming  as  any  I  had 
before  seen,  and  the  low  ways  as  bad ;  but  he  knew  all  the  roads 
and  cross  turnings  perfectly  well,  and  shortened  the  journey  a 
great  many  miles.  I  had  told  him  the  business  I  was  going  on, 
and  he  requested,  if  I  succeeded,  that  I  would  bring  Miss  MELMOTH 
to  his  house,  that  his  brother  might  marry  us  ;  and  as  to  Orton- 
Lodge,  which  I  had  described  to  him,  and  told  him  where  to  find, 
for  he  had  no  notion  of  it,  nor  had  ever  been  among  the  fells  of 
Westmoreland;  as  he  thought  that  country  unpassable ;  he 
promised  me  he  would  go  there  himself,  and  bring  with  him  two 
labouring  men  to  assist  my  lad,  in  putting  the  garden  and  house 
in  the  best  condition  they  were  capable  of  receiving  ;  that  he 
would  bring  there  seeds,  and  trees,  such  as  the  season  allowed, 
and  do  every  thing  in  his  power,  to  render  the  place  convenient 
and  pleasing  :  he  would  likewise  sell  me  a  couple  of  his  cows,  a 
few  sheep,  and  other  things,  which  I  should  find  before  me  at  the 
lodge,  and  let  me  have  one  of  his  maids  for  my  servant  in  the 
house.  This  was  good  indeed.  I  could  not  wish  for  more. 

The  9th  of  July,  early  in  the  morning,  FLEMING  and  I  parted, 
and  I  proceeed  as  fast  as  I  well  could  to  the  appointed  station, 
but  when  I  came  up  to  Mrs.  A;>GILL'S  door,  on  the  second  day  in 
the  evening,  July  10,  and  asked  for  Miss  MELMOTH,  an  old  man, 
:he  only  person  in  the  house,  told  me,  Mrs.  ASGILL  had  been  dead 


222  THE  LIFE  OF 


near  a  month,  and  Miss  MELMOTH  went  from  thence  immediately 
after  the  funeral  of  her  friend  ;  that  she  had  left  a  letter  with  him 
for  a  gentleman  that  was  to  call  upon  her  ;  but  that  letter  by  an 
accident  was  destroyed,  and  where  the  lady  then  was,  he  could 
not  so  much  as  guess  ;  he  farther  told  me,  that  Miss  MELMOTH 
had  sold  the  goods  of  the  house,  and  the  stock,  bequeathed  to  her 
by  her  deceased  friend,  to  the  gentleman  who  inherited  the  late 
Mrs.  ASGILL'S  jointure,  and  she  would  return  no  more  to  the  place. 
This  was  news  to  me.  It  struck  me  to  the  soul.  Doleful  tidings, 
how  ye  wound.  What  to  do  I  could  not  tell,  but  as  I  rode  to 
the  next  town,  determined  at  last,  to  try  if  I  could  hear  of  her 
at  York.  To  that  city  I  went  the  next  day,  asked  at  the  inns, 
walked  the  walls,  and  went  to  the  assembly-room.  [My  enquiries 
were  all  in  vain.  One  gentleman  only  did  I  see  who  was  ac- 
quainted with  her,  and  he  knew  nothing  of  her  present  abode. 
From  York  then  I  proceeded  the  next  morning  to  search  other 
towns,  and  left  no  place  unexamined  where  I  could  think  she 
might  be.  Three  weeks  were  spent  in  this  manner,  without 
hearing  a  syllable  of  her,  and  then  I  thought  it  was  best  to  return 
to  my  lodge  ;  for  what  signified  my  five  hundred  pounds  to  appear 
with  in  the  world.  It  must  be  soon  gone  as  I  had  not  the  least 
notion  of  any  kind  of  trade;  and  if  I  joined  any  one  that  was  in 
business,  I  might  be  mistaken  in  the  man,  and  so  cheated  and 
undone.  Then  what  could  I  do  but  carry  a  brown  musket,  or  go 
a  hand  before  the  mast  •  for,  as  to  being  an  usher  to  a  school  for 
bread,  were  I  reduced  to  want,  that  was  the  life  of  all  lives  that 
I  most  abhorred.  Nothing  else  then  had  I  for  it  but  my  silent 
mountain-lodge,  which  kind  Providence  had  brought  me  to. 
There  I  resolved  to  go,  and  in  that  charming  solitude,  peruse  alone 
the  book  of  nature,  till  I  could  hear  of  some  better  way  of  spending 
my  time. 

To  this  purpose  then  I  went  the  second  of  August,  1725,  to 
Barnard's  Castle  in  Durham,  and  intended  the  next  morning  to 
set  out  for  FLEMING'S  house  in  Stanemore,  to  go  from  thence 
to  my  cottage  on  the  side  of  a  Westmoreland- Fell,  but  after  I  had 
rode  a  mile  off  the  road  to  Eggleston,  where  I  purposed  to  dine, 
I  called  out  to  my  lad  to  stop.  A  sudden  thought  came  into  my 
head,  to  ride  first  to  Greta-bridge,  as  I  was  so  near  it,  to  see  some 
fine  Roman  monuments,  that  are  in  the  neighbourhood  of  that 
village.  To  that  place  I  went  then,  and  passed  the  day  in  looking 
over  all  the  antiquities  and  curiosities  I  could  find  there.  I 
returned  in  the  evening  to  my  inn,  and  while  a  fowl  was  roasting 
for  my  supper,  stood  leaning  against  the  house- door,  looking  at 
several  travellers  that  went  by,  and  some  that  came  to  rest  where 
I  did  that  night.  Many  figures  I  beheld,  but  none  I  knew.  At 
last  there  came  riding  up  to  the  inn,  full  speed,  a  young  lady  on 
a  most  beautiful  beast,  and  after  her,  two  horses  more  ;  on  one 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  223 

of  which  was  her  man  servant,  and  on  the  other  her  maid,  She 
had  a  black  mask  on  her  face,  to  save  her  from  the  dust  and  sun, 
and  when  she  alighted  from  her  horse,  she  did  not  take  it  off,  but 
went  with  it  on  into  the  house,  after  she  had  looked  for  a  moment 
or  two  at  me.  This  I  thought  very  strange.  "  A  charmer  to  be 
sure  ?  "  said  I.  "  With  what  life  and  grace  did  she  come  to  the 
ground  !  but  how  cruel  the  dear  little  rogue  is,  to  conceal  the 
wonders  of  its  face."  "  Landlord,"  said  I,  to  the  master  of  the 
house,  who  was  coming  up  to  me,  "  can  you  contrive  a  way  to  get 
me  one  view  of  that  masked  lady,  and  I  will  give  you  a  pint." 
"  Sir,"  mine  host  replied,  "  that  I  can  do  very  easily,  for  this  lady 
has  sent  me  to  let  you  know  she  wants  to  speak  with  you." 
"  With  me  ?  Transporting  news  !  "  I  flew  to  her  apartment,  and 
there  saw  that  dear  irresistible  creature,  who  had  added  to  the 
inferior  charms  of  face  and  person,  that  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
conduct  and  conversation,  which  are  the  true  glory  of  a  woman. 
It  was  Miss  MELMOTH.  She  had  heard  I  had  been  at  Mrs.  ASGILL'S 
house,  and  did  not  get  the  letter  she  left  for  me,  which  made  her 
think  of  riding  towards  Greta-bridge,  on  an  imagination  she  might 
find  me  thereabout ;  as  she  remembered  to  have  heard  me  say, 
in  one  of  our  conversations,  that  I  intended  as  soon  as  I  could,  to 
look  at  the  Roman  antiquities  in  this  place  ;  but  she  had  very  little 
hopes,  she  added,  of  succeeding  in  her  enquiry  ;  as  little  as  I  had  of 
her  riding  up  to  the  inn  ;  and  this  made  the  meeting  the  more 
pleasing.  It  did  enhance  the  pleasure  indeed.  It  turned  the 
amour  into  an  adventure,  and  gave  it  that  delicious  flavour, 
which  the  moderns  read  of  in  the  histories  of  past  times,  but 
rarely  experience  in  these  days.  The  reader  that  has  been  engaged 
in  such  a  wonderful  and  tender  scene,  can  only  form  an  idea  of 
felicity,  which  words  would  in  vain  attempt  to  express. 

As  soon  as  we  had  supped,  I  recited  my  adventures  since  we 
parted,  and  gave  Miss  MELMOTH  a  flowery  description  of  Orton- 
Lodge  ;  then  asked  if  she  would  bless  me  with  her  hand,  and  sit 
down  with  me  in  my  pretty  solitude. 

"  Sir,"  replied  Miss  MELMOTH,  "  if  you  required  it,  I  would  go 
with  you  to  Hudson's-Bay,  had  I  a  hundred  thousand,  instead 
of  four  thousand  pounds  ;  which  is  my  fortune  exclusive  of  some 
personal  estate,  which  my  friend  Mrs.  ASGILL  by  her  will  be- 
queathed me  :  and  the  whole  is  at  your  service,  to  dispose  of  as  you 
please." 

"  Give  me  thy  hand,  then,"  said  I,  "  thou  generous  girl.  You 
make  me  the  happiest  of  men,  and  in  return  I  swear  by  that  one, 
supreme,  tremendous  Power  I  adore,  that  I  will  be  true  and 
faithful  to  thee,  till  death  dissolves  the  sacred  obligation.  Twice 
do  I  swear  by  the  great  Spirit,  in  whose  dread  presence  I  am,  with 
your  right  hand  now  locked  fast  in  mine  across  this  table,  and 
call  on  him  as  witness  to  our  vows,  that  neither  time,  nor  chance, 


224  THE  LIFE  OF 


nor  aught  but  death's  inevitable  hand,  shall  e'er  divide  our  loves." 
"  Amen,"  responded  Miss  MELMOTH. 

Early  the  next  morning,  the  third  of  August,  we  rode  to  Eggle- 
ston,  where  we  breakfasted  and  proceeded  from  thence  to  FLEMING 
house  up  Stanemore  hills,  where  we  arrived  at  nine  o'clock 
in  the  evening,  and  had  beds  there  that  night.  My  friend 
TOM  and  his  brother  JEMMY,  were  gone  to  a  fair ;  but  the  eldest 
brother,  the  Franciscan  friar,  was  at  home  and  entertained  us 
very  well.  We  took  him  with  us  very  early  the  next  day  to 
Orton-Lodge,  which  we  reached  at  eight  in  the  evening,  and  found 
the  house  and  garden  in  good  order.  Mr  friend  FLEMING,  had 
done  everything  possible,  to  make  it  a  convenient  and  comfort- 
able place.  He  had  made  near  the  Lodge  two  little  rooms  for 
servants,  and  had  put  a  bed  in  the  green-house  in  the  garden  for  a 
friend.  He  had  likewise  sent  there  a  couple  of  cows,  some  sheep 
and  lambs,  ducks  and  geese,  cocks  and  hens,  and  every  necessary- 
he  thought  we  might  want  there.  Good  TOM  FLEMING  !  there 
never  was  a  better  man,  or  a  kinder  friend,  to  his  small 
power. 

We  had  likewise  fish  in  abundance,  in  the  waters  at  the  foot  of 
our  hills,  and  goats  and  kids,  and  plenty  of  wild  fowl.  Few 
things  were  wanting  that  reason  could  desire  ;  and  for  us,  who 
thought  that  happiness,  that  is,  pleasure  and  repose  did  not 
precariously  depend  on  what  others  think,  or  say,  or  do  ;  but 
solidly  consisted  in  what  we  ourselves  did  feel,  and  relish,  and 
enjoy,  there  could  not  be  a  more  delightful  station  discovered  on 
this  globe. 

To  conclude,  the  best  things  that  Orton  Lodge  afforded,  were 
ordered  to  the  fire,  and  before  they  were  brought  on  the  table,  the 
man  of  God  threw  the  fillet  or  ribband  over  our  hands,  according 
to  the  Romish  manner,  and  pronounced  the  nuptial  benediction 
on  us.  Husband  and  wife  we  sat  down  to  supper. 

Thus  did  the  stars  preside  with  friendly  rays, 
And  bid  me  hail  at  last  the  happy  days, 
When  sheltered  within  this  wild  retreat, 
Above  the  scorn,  below  the  rage  of  fate  ; 
Blest  in  a  wife,  a  friend,  and  books,  alone  ; 
To  this  mad  world,  and  all  its  plagues  unknown  ; 
The  smooth-paced  hours  did  sweetly  pass  away, 
And  happy  nights  still  clos'd  each  happy  day. 

When  I  consider  how  happy  I  have  been  in  the  married  state, 
and  in  a  succession  of  seven  wives,  never  had  one  uneasy  hour ; 
that  even  a  Paradise,  without  an  Eve,  would  have  been  a  wilder- 
ness to  me  ;  that  the  woods,  the  groves,  the  walks,  the  prospects, 
the  flowers,  the  fruits,  the  day,  the  night,  all  would  have  wanted 
a  relish,  without  that  dear,  delightful  companion,  a  wife  ;  it  amazes 
me  to  hear  many  sensible  people  speak  with  abhorrence  of  matri- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  225 

mony,  and  insist  upon  it,  that  wedlock  produces  so  many  troubles, 
even  where  the  pair  have  affection,  and  sorrows  so  very  great, 
when  they  have  no  love  for  each  other,  or  begin  to  fail  in  the  kind 
and  obliging  offices,  that  it  is  contrary  to  reason  to  contract,  if  we 
have  a  just  regard  to  peace  and  satisfaction  of  mind,  and  would 
avoid,  as  much  as  possible,  the  woes  and  bewailings  of  this  turbid 
period.  If  you  have  acquired  the  divine  habits,  marriage  may 
unhinge  them.  It  often  forces  even  the  pious  into  immoralities. 
True,  unhappy  are  many  a  wedded  pair  :  years  of  calamity  this 
engagement  has  produced  to  thousands  of  mortals  ;  it  has  made 
the  most  pious  divines  become  very  cruel,  as  I  could  relate  ;  it 
has  caused  the  most  generous,  sensible  men  to  murder  the  women 
they  adored  before  they  were  their  wives. 


THE    HISTORY   OF   ORLANDO   AND    BELINDA. 

This  story  has  been  told  before  by  the  Tatler,  in  his  i?2d 
paper ;  but  as  he  related  it  only  by  hearsay,  and  was  mistaken  in 
several  particulars,  the  account  I  give  of  this  extraordinary  affair 
may  be  grateful  to  the  reader. 

When  I  was  a  little  boy  in  Dublin,  between  seven  and  eight, 
Mr.  EUSTACE  and  his  Lady  lived  next  door  to  my  father,  in  Smith- 
field,  and  the  two  families  were  intimate.  Being  a  lively  prating 
thing,  Mrs.  EUSTACE  was  fond  of  me,  and  by  tarts  and  fruit  en- 
couraged me  to  run  into  her  parlour  as  often  as  I  could.  This 
made  me  well  acquainted  in  the  house  ;  and  as  I  was  a  remarker  so 
early  in  my  life,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  making  the  following 
observations. 

ORLANDO  EUSTACE  was  a  tall,  thin,  strong  man,  well  made,  and 
a  very  genteel  person.  His  face  was  pale  and  marked  with  the 
small  pox  ;  his  features  were  good,  and  yet  there  was  something 
fierce  in  his  look,  even  when  he  was  not  displeased.  He  had  sense 
and  learning,  and,  with  a  large  fortune,  was  a  generous  man  ;  but 
passionate  to  an  amazing  degree,  for  his  understanding ;  and  a 
trifle  would  throw  him  into  a  rage.  He  had  been  humoured  in 
everything  from  his  cradle,  on  account  of  his  fine  estate  ;  from 
his  infancy  to  his  manhood,  had  been  continually  flattered,  and  in 
everything  obeyed.  This  made  him  opinionated  and  proud, 
obstinate,  and  incapable  of  bearing  the  least  contradiction. 

BELINDA  COOTE,  his  lady,  with  whom  he  had  been  passionately 
in  love,  was  as  fine  a  figure  as  could  be  seen  among  the  daughters 
of  men.  Her  person  was  charming  ;  her  face  was  beautiful,  and 
had  a  sweetness  in  it  that  was  pleasing  to  look  at.  Her  vivacity 
was  great,  and  her  understanding  extraordinary ;  but  she  had  a 
satirical  wit,  and  a  vanity  which  made  her  delight  in  shewing  the 
weakness  of  other  minds,  and  the  clearness  of  her  own  conception. 


226  THE  LIFE  OF 


She  was  too  good,  however,  to  have  the  least  malice,  in  such 
procedure.  It  was  human  weakness,  and  a  desire  to  make  her 
neighbours  wiser.  Unfortunately  for  her,  she  was  married  to  a 
man,  who,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  was  the  unfittest  subject  for 
her  quick  fancy  to  act  on. 

But,  notwithstanding  this,  EUSTACE  and  BELINDA  were,  for 
the  most  of  their  time,  very  fond.     As  she  was  formed  in  a  prodi- 
gality of  nature,  to  shew  mankind  a  finished  composition,  and  had 
wit  and  charms  enough  to  fire  the  dullest  and  most  insensible 
heart ;  a  man  of  ORLANDO'S  taste  for  the  sex,  could  not  be  without 
an  inflamed  heart,  when  so  near  the  transporting  object  of  desire. 
She  was  his  delight  for  almost  a  year,  the  dear  support  of  his  life. 
He  seemed  to  value  her  esteem,  her  respect,  her  love  ;  and  en- 
deavoured to  merit  them  by  the  virtues   which  fortify  love  : 
and  therefore,  when  by  his  being  short,  positive,  and  unreasonable 
in  his  dictates,  as  was  too  often  his  wont ;    and  on  her  being 
intemperate  in  the  strong  sentiments  her  imagination  produced 
upon  the  occasion,  which  was  too  frequently  the  case  ;  when  they 
seemed  to  forget  the  Apostle's  advice  for  a  while,  "  that  ye  love 
one  another  with  a  pure  heart,  fervently : "  i  Peter,  ch.  i.  v.  22. 
and  had  strifes  and  debates,  which  showed  for  the  time  they  lasted, 
that  they  were  far  from  being  perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing  ; 
then  would  her  throwing  her  face  into   smiles,  with    some  ten- 
der expression,  prove  a   reconciling  method  at  once.     Till  the 
fatal  night,  this  always  had  a  power  to  soften  pain,  to  ease  and 
calm  the  raging  man. 

But  poor  at  best  is  the  condition  of  human  life  here  below  ;  and 
when  to  weak  and  imperfect  faculties,  we  add  inconsistencies, 
and  do  not  act  up  to  the  eternal  law  of  reason,  and  of  God  ;  when 
love  of  fame,  curiosity,  resentment,  or  any  of  our  particular  pro- 
pensities ;  when  humour,  vanity,  or  any  of  our  inferior  powers, 
are  permitted  to  act  against  justice  and  veracity,  and  instead  of 
reflecting  on  the  reason  of  the  thing,  or  the  right  of  the  case,  that 
by  the  influence  this  has  on  the  mind,  we  may  be  constituted 
virtuous,  and  attached  to  truth  ;  we  go  down  with  the  current  of 
the  passions,  and  let  bent  and  humour  determine  us,  in  opposition 
to  what  is  decent  and  fit  :  if  in  a  state  so  unfriendly  as  this  is, 
to  the  heavenly  and  divine  life,  where  folly  and  vice  are  for  ever 
striving  to  introduce  disorder  into  our  frame,  and  it  is  difficult 
indeed,  to  preserve,  in  any  degree,  an  integrity  of  character, 
and  peace  within  :  if,  in  such  a  situation,  instead  of  labouring  to 
destroy  all  the  seeds  of  envy,  pride,  ill-will,  and  impatience,  and 
endeavouring  to  establish  and  maintain  a  due  inward  economy 
and  harmony,  by  paying  a  perpetual  regard  to  truth,  that  is, 
to  the  real  circumstances  and  relation  of  things  in  which  we  stand, 
to  the  practice  of  reason  in  its  just  extent,  according  to  the  capa- 
cities and  natures  of  every  being ;  we  do,  on  the  contrary,  dis- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


regard  the  moral  faculty,  and  become  a  mere  system  of  passions 
and  affections,  without  any  thing  at  the  head  of  them  to  govern 
them  ;  what  then  can  be  expected,  but  deficiency  and  deformity, 
degeneracy  and  guilty  practice  ?  This  was  the  case  of  EUSTACE 
and  BELINDA.  Passion  and  own-will  were  so  near  and  intimate 
to  him,  that  he  seemed  to  live  under  a  deliberate  resolution  not 
to  be  governed  by  reason.  He  would  wink  at  the  light  he  had, 
struggle  to  evade  conviction,  and  made  his  mind  a  chaos  and  a 
hell.  BELINDA,  at  the  same  time,  was  too  quick,  too  vain  and 
too  often  forgot  to  take  into  her  idea  of  a  good  character,  a  con- 
tinual subordination  of  the  lower  powers  of  our  nature  to  the 
faculty  of  reason.  This  produced  the  following  scene. 

MARIA,  sister  to  BELINDA,  returned  one  evening  with  a  five 
guinea  fan  she  had  bought  that  afternoon,  and  was  tedious  in 
praising  some  Indian  figures  that  were  painted  in  it.  Mrs. 
EUSTACE,  who  had  a  taste  for  pictures,  said,  the  colours  were  fine, 
but  the  images  ridiculous  and  despicable  ;  and  her  sister  must 
certainly  be  a  little  Indian-mad,  or  her  fondness  for  every  thing 
from  that  side  of  the  globe  could  not  be  so  excessive  and  extra- 
vagant as  it  always  appeared  to  be. 

To  this  MARIA  replied  with  some  heat,  and  EUSTACE  very  per- 
emptorily insisted  upon  it,  that  she  was  right.  With  postiveness 
and  passion  he  magnified  the  beauties  of  the  figures  on  the  fan, 
and  with  violence  reflected  so  severely  on  the  good  judgment 
BELINDA,  upon  all  occasions,  pretended  to,  as  he  expressed  it; 
that  at  last,  her  imagination  was  fired,  and,  with  too  much  eager- 
ness she  not  only  ridiculed  the  opinion  of  her  sister,  in  respect 
of  such  things,  but  spoke  with  too  much  warmth  against  the  des- 
potic tempers  of  self-sufficient  ^husbands. 

To  reverence  and  obey,  she  said,  was  not  required  by  any 
obligation,  when  men  were  unreasonable,  and  paid  no  regard  to  a 
wife's  domestic  and  personal  felicity  ;  nor  would  she  give  up  her 
understanding  to  his  weak  determination,  since  custom  cannot 
confer  an  authority  which  nature  has  denied  :  It  cannot  license 
a  husband  to  be  unjust,  nor  give  right  to  treat  her  as  a  slave.  If 
this  was  to  be  the  case  in  matrimony,  and  women  were  to  suffer 
under  conjugal  vexations,  as  she  did,  by  his  senseless  arguments 
every  day,  they  had  better  bear  the  reproach  and  solitude  of 
antiquated  virginity,  and  be  treated  as  the  refuse  of  the  world,  in 
the  character  of  old  maids. 

This  too  lively,  though  just  speech,  enraged  EUSTACE  to  the 
last  degree,  and  from  a  fury,  he  sunk  in  a  few  minutes  into  a  total 
sullen  silence,  and  sat  for  half  an  hour,  while  I  stayed,  cruelly 
determining,  I  suppose,  her  sad  doom.  BELINDA  soon  saw  she 
had  gone  too  far,  and  did  all  that  could  be  done  to  recover  him 
from  the  fit  he  was  in.  She  smiled,  cried,  asked  pardon  ;  but 
'twas  all  in  vain.  Every  charm  had  lost  its  power,  and  he 


228  THE  LIFE  OF 


seemed  no  longer  man.  When  this  beauty  stood  weeping  by  his 
chair,  and  said  "  My  love,  forgive  me,  as  it  was  in  raillery  only 
I  spoke,  and  let  our  pleasures  and  pains  be  hereafter  honestly 
shared."  I  remember  the  tears  burst  from  my  eyes,  and  in  that 
condition  I  went  away.  It  was  frightful  to  look  at  EUSTACE,  as 
he  shook,  started,  and  wildly  stared  ;  and  the  distress  his  Lady 
appeared  in,  was  enough  to  make  the  most  stony  heart  bleedj; 
it  was  a  dismal  scene. 

This  happened  at  nine  at  night,  and  at  ten  ORLANDO  withdrew, 
to  bed,  without  speaking  one  word,  as  I  was  informed.  Soon  after 
he  lay  down,  he  pretended  to  be  fast  asleep,  and  his  wife  rejoicing 
to  find  him  so,  as  she  believed,  in  hopes  that  nature's  soft  nurse 
would  lull  the  active  instruments  of  motion,  and  calm  the  raging 
operations  of  his  mind,  she  resigned  herself  to  slumbers,  and 
thought  to  abolish  for  that  night  every  disagreeable  sensation 
of  pain,  but  no  sooner  did  this  furious  man  find  that  his  charming 
wife,  was  really  ^asleep,  than  he  plunged  a  dagger  into  her  breast. 
The  monster  repeated  the  strokes,  while  she  had  life  to  speak  to 
him,  in  the  tenderest  manner,  and  conjured  him,  in  regard  to  his 
own  happiness,  to  let  her  live,  and  not  sink  himself  into  perdition 
here,  and  hereafter,  by  her  death.  In  vain  she  prayed  ;  he  gave 
her  a  thousand  wounds,  and  I  saw  her  the  next  morning  a  bloody 
mangled  corpse,  in  the  great  house  in  Smithfield,  which  stood  at 
a  distance  from  the  street,  with  a  wall  before  it,  and  an  avenue  of 
high  trees  up  to  the  door ;  and  not  in  the  country  as  the  Tatler 
says. 

EUSTACE  fled,  when  he  thought  she  was  expiring,  though 
she  lived  for  an  hour  after,  to  relate  the  case  to  her  maid,  who 
heard]  her  groan  and  came  into  her  room  ;  and  went  from  Dublin 
to  a  little  lodge  he  had  in  the  country,  about  twenty  miles  from 
town.  The  magistrates,  in  a  short  time,  had  information  where 
he  was  ;  and  one  JOHN  MANSEL,  a  constable,  a  bold  and  strong 
man,  undertook  for  a  reward,  to  apprehend  him.  To  this  purpose 
he  set  out  immediately,  with  a  case  of  pistols  and  a  hanger, 
and  lurked  several  days  and  nights  in  the  fields,  before  he  could 
find  an  opportunity  of  coming  at  him  ;  for  EUSTACE  lived  by  him- 
self in  the  house,  well  secured  by  strong  doors  and  bars,  and  only 
went  out  now  and  then  to  an  alehouse,  the  master  of  which 
was  his  friend.  Near  it,  at  last,  about  break  of  day,  MANSEL 
chanced  to  find  him,  and,  upon  his  refusing  to  be  made  a  prisoner, 
and  cocking  a  pistol  to  shoot  the  officer  of  justice,  both  their 
pistols  were  discharged  at  once,  and  they  both  dropt  down  dead 
men.  EUSTACE  was  shot  in  the  heart,  and  the  constable  in  the 
brain.  They  were  both  brought  to  Dublin  on  one  of  the  little 
low-backed  cars  there  used  ;  and  I  was  one  of  the  boys  that 
followed  the  car,  from  the  beginning  of  James-street,  the  out-side 
of  the  city,  all  through  the  town.  EUSTACE'S  head  hung  dangling 


JOHN  BUN  OLE,  ESQ.  229 

near  the  ground,  with  his  face  upwards,  and  his  torn  bloody 
breast  bare ;  and  of  all  the  faces  of  the  dead  I  have  seen, 
none  ever  looked  like  his.  There  was  an  anxiety,  a  rage,  a 
horror,  and  a  despair  to  be  seen  in  it,  that  no  pencil  could 
express. 

Thus  fell  EUSTACE  in  the  twenty- ninth  year  of  his  age,  and  by 
his  hand  his  virtuous,  beautiful,  and  ingenious  wife  ;  and  what 
are  we  to  learn  from  thence  ?  is  it  that  on  such  accounts,  we  ought 
to  dread  wedlock  and  ne'er  be  concerned  with  a  wife  ?  No, 
surely,  but  to  be  from  thence  convinced,  that  it  is  necessary  in 
order  to  a  happy  marriage,  to  bring  the  will  to  the  obedience  of 
reason,  and  acquire  an  equanimity  in  the  general  tenour  of  life. 
Of  all  things  in  this  world,  moral  dominion,  or  the  empire  over 
ourselves,  is  not  only  the  most  glorious,  as  reason  is  the  superior 
nature  of  man,  but  the  most  valuable,  in  respect  of  real  human 
happiness.  A  conformity  to  reason,  or  good  sense,  and  to  the 
inclination  of  our  neighbours,  with  very  little  money,  may  pro- 
duce great  and  lasting  felicity  ;  but  without  this  subservience  to 
our  own  reason,  complaisance  to  company,  and  softness  and 
benevolence  to  all  around  us,  the  greatest  misery  does  frequently 
sprout  from  the  largest  stock  of  fortunes. 

It  was  by  ungoverned  passions,  that  EUSTACE  murdered  his 
wife  and  died  himself  ;  the  most  miserable  and  wretched  of  all 
human  beings.  He  might  have  been  the  happiest  of  mortals,  if 
he  had  conformed  to  the  dictates  of  reason,  and  softened  his 
passions,  as  well  for  his  own  ease  as  in  compliance  to  a  creature 
formed  with  a  mind  of  a  quite  different  make  from  his  own.  There 
is  a  sort  of  sex  in  souls  ;  and,  exclusive  of  that  love  and  patience 
which  our  religion  requires,  every  couple  should  remember, 
that  there  are  things  which  grow  out  of  their  very  natures,  that 
are  pardonable,  when  considered  as  such.  Let  them  not,  there- 
fore, be  spying  out  faults,  nor  find  a  satisfaction  in  reproaching  ; 
but  let  them  examine  to  what  consequences  their  ideas  tend, 
and  resolve  to  cease  from  cherishing  them,  when  they  lead  to 
contention  and  mischief.  Let  them  both  endeavour  to  amend 
what  is  wrong  in  each  other,  and  act  as  becomes  their  character 
in  practising  the  social  duties  of  married  persons,  which  are  so 
frequently  and  strongly  inculcated  by  revelation  and  natural 
reason  ;  and  then,  instead  of  matrimony  being  a  burthen, 
and  hanging  a  weight  upon  our  very  beings,  there  will  be  no 
Appearance  of  evil  in  it,  but  harmony  and  joy  will  shed  unmixed 
felicities  on  them  ;  they  will  live  in  no  low  degree  of  beatitude  in 
the  suburbs  of  heaven. 

This  was  my  case,  wedlock  to  me  became  the  greatest  blessing  ; 
a  scene  of  the  most  refined  friendship,  and  a  condition  to  which 
nothing  can  be  added  to  complete  the  sum  of  human  felicity.  So 
I  found  the  holy  and  sublime  relation,  and  in  the  wilds  of  West- 


230  THE  LIFE  OF 


moreland  enjoyed  a  happiness  as  great  as  human  nature  is  capable 
of,  on  this  planet.  Sensible  to  all  the  ties  of  social  truth  and 
honour,  my  partner  and  I  lived  in  perfect  felicity,  on  the  products 
of  our  solitary  farm.  The  amiable  dispositions  of  her  mind, 
cheerfulness,  good  nature,  discretion,  and  diligence,  gave  a 
perpetual  dignity  and  lustre  to  the  grace  and  loveliness  of  her 
person  ;  and  as  I  did  all  that  love  and  fidelity  could  do,  by  practis- 
ing every  rule  of  caution,  prudence  and  justice,  to  prevent  variance, 
soften  cares,  and  preserve  affection  undiminished,  the  harmony  of 
our  state  was  unmixed  and  divine.  Since  the  primitive  institution 
of  the  relation,  it  never  existed  in  a  more  delightful  manner. 
Devoted  to  each  other's  heart,  we  desired  no  other  happiness  in 
this  world,  than  to  pass  life  away  together  in  the  solitude  we  were 
in.  We  lived,  hoped,  and  feared  but  for  each  other  ;  and  made  it 
our  daily  study  to  be  what  revealed  religion  prescribes,  and  the 
concurrent  voice  of  nature  requires,  in  the  sacred  tie.  Do  so  like- 
wise, ye  mortals,  who  intend  to  marry,  and  ye  may,  like  us,  be 
happy.  As  the  instincts  and  passions  were  wisely  and  kindly 
given  us,  to  subserve  many  purposes  of  our  present  state,  let  them 
have  their  proper,  subaltern  share  of  action  ;  but  let  reason  ever 
have  the  sovereignty,  the  divine  law  of  reason  and  truth,  and  be 
as  it  were,  sail  and  wind  to  the  vessel  of  life. 

Two  years  almost,  this  fine  scene  lasted,  and  during  that  period, 
the  business  and  diversions  of  our  lone  retreat  appeared  so  various 
and  pleasing,  that  it  was  not  possible  to  think  a  hundred  years 
so  spent,  in  the  least  degree  dull  and  tedious.  Exclusive  of 
books  and  gardening,  and  the  improvement  of  the  farm,  we  had 
during  the  fine  season,  a  thousand  charming  amusements  on  the 
mountains,  and  in  the  glens  and  valleys  of  that  sweet  silent  place. 
Whole  days  we  would  spend  in  fishing,  and  dine  in  some  cool  grot 
by  the  water-side,  or  under  an  aged  tree,  or  the  margin  of  some 
beautiful  stream.  We  generally  used  the  fly  and  rod,  but  had 
recourse  if  in  haste  to  one  of  the  little  water-falls,  and,  by  fixing 
a  net  under  one  of  them,  would  take  a  dozen  or  two  of  very  large 
trouts,  in  a  few  minutes  time. 

By  a  little  water-fall  I  mean  one  of  those  that  are  formed  by 
some  small  river,  which  tumbles  there  in  various  places,  from  rock 
to  rock,  about  four  feet  each  fall,  and  makes  a  most  beautiful 
view  from  top  to  bottom  of  a  fall.  There  are  many  of  these  falling 
waters  among  the  vast  mountains  of  Westmoreland,  and  I  have 
seen  them  likewise  in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland. 

At  Glencrow,  half  way  between  Dunbarton  and  Inverary,  there 
are  some  very  fine  ones,  and  just  by  them  one  CAMPBELL  keeps 
a  poor  inn.  There  we  were  entertained  with  water  and  whiskey, 
oatcakes,  milk,  butter,  and  trouts  he  took  by  the  net,  at  one  of 
the  little  falls  of  a  river  that  descends  a  prodigious  mountain  near 
his  lone  house,  and  forms,  like  what  we  have  at  Orton- Lodge,  a 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  231 

most  beautiful  scene.  Several  happy  days  I  passed  at  this  place 
with  a  dear  creature,  who  is  now  a  saint  in  heaven. 

At  other  times  we  had  the  diversion  of  taking  as  much  carp  and 
tench  as  we  pleased,  in  a  large,  standing,  fenny  water,  that  lies 
about  two  miles  from  the  lodge,  in  a  glen,  and  always  found  the 
fish  of  this  water  of  an  enormous  size,  three  feet  long,  though  the 
general  length  of  fish  of  this  species  is  eleven  inches  in  our  ponds. 
This  vast  bigness  must  be  owing  to  the  great  age  of  these  fish, 
which  I  may  suppose,  at  least,  an  hundred  years  ;  for  it  is  certain 
that  in  garden  ponds  which  have  for  experiment's  sake,  been  left 
undisturbed  for  many  years,  the  carp  and  tench  have  been  found 
alive,  and  grown  to  a  surprising  bigness. 

A  gentleman,  my  near  relation,  who  lived  to  a  very  advanced 
age,  put  some  fish  of  these  species  in  a  pond,  2oth  Nov.  1648  ;  the 
day  that  Colonel  Ewer,  at  the  head  of  seven  other  officers,  pre- 
sented to  the  commons  that  fatal  remonstrance,  which  in  fact 
took  off  the  head  of  Charles  ;  and  in  the  year  1727,  seventy-nine 
years  after,  on  his  return  to  that  seat,  he  found  them  all  alive,  and 
near  two  feet  and  a  half  in  length.  This  demonstrates  that  fish 
may  live  to  a  very  great  age.  It  likewise  proves  that  they 
continue  to  grow  till  they  are  a  hundred  years  old,  and  then  are 
the  finest  eating. 

Another  of  our  amusements,  during  the  summer's  bright  day, 
was  the  pointer  and  gun,  for  the  black  cock,  the  moor  cock,  and 
the  cock  of  the  wood,  which  are  in  great  plenty  on  those  vast  hills.* 
CHARLOTTE  was  fond  of  this  sport,  and  would  walk  with  me  for 
hours  to  see  me  knock  down  the  game  ;  till,  late  in  the  evening,  we 
would  wander  over  the  fells,  and  then  return  to  our  clean,  peace- 
ful, little  house,  to  sup  as  elegantly  on  our  birds,  as  the  great  could 
do,  and  with  a  harmony  and  unmixed  joy  they  are  for  ever 
strangers  to.  After  supper,  over  some  little  nectared-bowl,  we 
sweetly  chatted,  till  it  was  bed- time  ;  or  I  played  on  my  flute,  and 
CHARLOTTE  divinely  sung.  It  was  a  happy  life,  all  the  riches  and 

*  The  black  cock,  is  as  large  as  our  game  cocks,  and  flies  very  swift  and  strong.  The  head 
and  eyes  are  large,  and  round  the  eyes  is  a  beautiful  circle  of  red.  The  beak  is  strong, and 
black  as  the  body  ;  the  legs  robust  and  red.  It  is  very  high  eating,  more  so  than  any  native- 
bird  in  England  except  the  fen-ortolan  ;  but  in  one  particular  it  exceeds  the  fen  birds,  for  it 
has  two  tastes,  being  brown  and  whitemeat ;  under  a  lay  of  brown  is  one  of  whitemeat  :  both 
delicious,  the  brown  is  higher  than  the  black  moor  cock,  and  the  white  much  richer  than  the 
pheasant. 

The  moor  cock  is  likewise  very  rare,  but  is  to  be  had  sometimes  in  London,  as  the  sports- 
men meet  with  it  now  and  then  on  the  hilly-heaths,  not  very  far  from  town,  particularly  on 
Hindhead-heath,  in  the  way  to  Portsmouth.  It  is  as  large  as  a  good  Dorking  fowl,  and  the 
colour  is  a  deep  iron-grey.  Its  eyes  are  large  and  fine  as  the  black  cock's ;  but,  instead  of  the 
red  circle  round  them,  it  has  bright  and  beautiful  scarlet  eyebrows. 

The  cock  of  the  wood,  as  unknown  in  London  as  the  black  cock,  is  almost  as  large  as  a 
turkey,  but  flies  well.  The  back  is  a  mixture  of  black,  grey,  and  a  reddish  brown  ;  the  belly 
grey,  and  the  breast  a  pale  brown,  with  transverse  lines  of  black,  and  a  little  white  at  the  tips 
of  the  feathers.  It  has  a  large  round  head,  of  the  purest  black,  and  over  its  fine  hazle  eyes, 
there  is  a  naked  space,  that  looks  like  an  eye-brow  of  bright  scarlet.  It  is  delicious  eating, 
but  far  inferior  to  the  black  cock. 


232  THE  LIFE  OF 


honours  of  the  world  cannot  produce  such  scenes  of  bliss  as  we 
experienced  in  a  cottage,  in  the  wilds  of  Westmoreland.  Even  the 
winter,  which  is  ever  boisterous  and  extreme  cold  in  that  part  of 
the  world,  was  no  severity  to  us.  As  we  had  most  excellent  pro- 
visions of  every  kind  in  abundance,  and  plenty  of  firing  from  the 
ancient  woods,  which  covered  many  of  those  high  hills  ;  and  two 
men  servants,  and  two  maids,  to  do  whatever  tended  to  being  and 
to  well-being,  to  supply  our  wants,  and  to  complete  our  happiness. 
This  softened  the  hard  rough  scene,  and  the  roaring  waters,  and 
the  howling  winds,  appeared  pleasing  sounds.  In  short,  every 
season,  and  all  our  hours,  were  quite  charming,  and  full  of  de- 
light. Good  TOM  FLEMING,  our  friend,  did  likewise  enhance  our 
felicity,  by  coming  once  or  twice  a  week  to  see  us,  and  staying 
sometimes  two  or  three  days.  In  the  summer  time,  we  also 
went  now  and  then  to  visit  him  ;  and,  if  one  was  inclined  to  mel- 
ancholy, it  was  impossible  to  be  dull  while  he  was  by.  His 
humour,  and  his  songs,  over  a  bowl  of  punch,  were  enough  to 
charm  the  most  splenetic,  and  make  even  rancour  throw  its  face 
into  smiles. 

1727. — Two  years,  as  I  have  said,  this  fine  scene  lasted  ;  and 
during  that  soft  transporting  period,  I  was  the  happiest  man  on 
earth.  But  in  came  Death,  when  we  least  expected  him,  snatched 
my  charming  partner  from  me,  and  melted  all  my  happiness  into 
air — into  thin  air.  A  fever,  in  a  few  days,  snapp'd  off  the  thread 
of  her  life,  and  made  me  the  child  of  affliction,  when  I  had  not  a 
thought  of  the  mourner.  Language  cannot  paint  the  distress  this 
calamity  reduced  me  to  ;  nor  give  an  idea  of  what  I  suffered,  when 
I  saw  her  eyes  swimming  in  death,  and  the  throes  of  her  departing 
spirit.  Blest  as  she  was,  in  the  exercise  of  every  virtue  that 
adorns  a  woman  how  inconsolable  must  her  husband  be  !  and,  to 
add  to  my  distress,  by  the  same  fever  fell  my  friend  TOM  FLEMING, 
who  came  the  day  before  my  wife  sickened  to  see  us.  One  of  my 
lads  likewise  died,  and  the  two  servant  maids.  They  all  lay  dead 
around  me,  and  I  sat  like  one  inanimate  by  the  corpse  of  CHAR- 
LOTTE, till  friar  FLEMING  the  brother  of  TOM,  brought  coffins  and 
buried  them  all.  Thus  did  felicity  vanish  from  my  sight,  and  I 
remained  like  a  traveller  in  Greenland,  who  had  lost  the 
sun. 

"  O  eloquent,  just  and  mighty  death  !  "  says  Raleigh.  It  is  thou 
alone  puts  wisdom  into  the  human  heart,  and  suddenly  makes 
man  to  know  himself.  It  is  death  that  makes  the  conqueror 
ashamed  of  his  fame,  and  wish  he  had  rather  stolen  out  of  the 
world,  than  purchased  the  report  of  his  actions,  by  rapine,  op- 
pression, and  cruelty  ;  by  giving  in  spoil  the  innocent  and  labouring 
soul  to  the  idle  and  insolent  ;  by  emptying  the  cities  of  the  world 
of  their  ancient  inhabitants,  and  filling  them  again  with  so  many 
and  so  variable  sorts  of  sorrows.  It  is  death  tells  the  proud  and 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  233 

insolent,  that  they  are  but  abjects,  and  humbles  them  at  the 
instant ;  makes  them  cry,  complain,  and  repent ;  yea  even,  to 
hate  their  former  happiness.  It  is  death  takes  the  account  of  the 
rich,  and  proves  him  a  beggar,  a  naked  beggar,  which  hath  interest 
in  nothing  but  the  gravel  which  fills  his  mouth.  It  is  death  holds 
a  glass  before  the  eyes  of  the  most  beautiful,  and  makes  them  see 
therein  their  deformity  and  rottenness  ;  and  they  acknowledge 
it. 

Whom  none  could  advise,  thou  hast  persuaded  ;  what  none 
have  dared,  thou  hast  done  :  and  whom  all  the  world  hath 
flattered,  thou  only  hast  cast  out  of  the  world,  and  despised. 
Thou  hast  drawn  together  all  the  far-stretched  greatness,  all  the 
pride,  cruelty,  and  ambition,  of  man  ;  all  the  powerful  charms 
of  beauty  ;  and  covered  it  all  over  with  these  two  narrow  words, 
'  Hie  jacet.' 

Nor  is  this  all,  mighty  Death  !  It  is  thou  that  leadest  to  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead  ;  and  dissolution  of  the  world  ;  the  judg- 
ment day  ;  and  the  eternal  state  of  men.  It  is  thou  that  finishes 
the  trial  of  men,  and  seals  their  characters,  for  happiness  or  misery 
for  ever. 

Be  thou  then,  Death,  our  morning  and  evening  meditation  : 
let  us  learn  from  thee  the  vanity  of  all  human  things ;  and  that 
it  is  the  most  amazing  folly,  to  melt  away  time,  and  misapply 
talents,  as  the  generality  of  reasonable  beings  do  :  that  we  were 
not  made  men,  thinking,  rational  beings,  capable  of  the  noblest 
contemplations,  to  spend  all  our  thoughts  and  time  in  sense  and 
pleasure,  in  dressing,  feeding,  and  sporting  ;  or  in  purchases, 
building  and  planting  ;  but  to  prepare  for  a  dying  hour  ;  that, 
when  at  the  call  of  God,  we  go  out  of  the  body,  not  knowing 
whither  we  go,  we  may,  like  Abraham,  travel  by  faith,  and  trust 
to  the  conduct  of  the  Lord  of  all  countries.  Since  we  must  die, 
and  thy  power,  O  Death,  we  see,  is  uncontrollable  ;  since  to  the 
dust  we  must  return,  and  take  our  trial  at  the  bar  of  Almighty 
God,  as  intelligent  and  free  agents  ;  for  under  moral  government, 
and  God  is  a  perfectly  wise  and  righteous  governor,  the  wickedness 
of  the  wicked  will  be  upon  him,  and  the  righteousness  of  the  right- 
eous will  be  upon  him;  since  we  must  be  numbered  with  the  dead, 
and  our  circumstances  and  condition  indicate  a  future  judgment, 
surely  we  ought  to  remove  our  chief  concern  from  this  world  to 
the  other,  and  transfer  our  principal  regard  to  the  immortal 
spirit ;  that  in  the  hour  of  agony,  a  virtuous  mind,  purity  of 
conscience,  and  good  actions,  may  procure  us  the  favour  of  God, 
and  the  guidance  of  his  good  spirit  to  the  mansions  of  the  blessed, 
where  now  pleasures  are  for  ever  springing  up,  and  the  happiness 
of  the  heavenly  inhabitants  is  perpetually  increasing.  This  is 
the  one  thing  needful.  Death  demonstrates,  that  this  world  of 
darkness  and  error,  changes  and  chances,  is  not  worth  fixing  our 


234  THE  LIFE  OF 


heart  on.     To  secure  our  passage  into  the  regions  of  perfect  and 
eternal  day,  should  be  the  employment  of  immortal  mortals. 

Thus  did  I  reflect  as  I  sat  among  the  dead,  with  my  eyes 
fastened  on  the  breathless  corpse  of  CHARLOTTE,  and  I  wished,  if 
it  was  possible,  to  have  leave  to  depart,  and  in  the  hospitable 
grave,  lie  down  from  toil  and  pain,  to  take  my  last  repose  ;  for 
I  knew  not  what  to  do,  nor  where  to  go.  I  was  not  qualified  for 
the  world  ;  nor  had  I  a  friend,  or  even  an  acquaintance  in  it,  that 
I  knew  where  to  find.  But  in  vain  I  prayed,  it  was  otherwise 
decreed  ;  I  must  go  on,  or  continue  a  solitary  in  the  wild  I  was 
in.  The  latter  it  was  not  possible  for  me  to  do  ;  in  the  state  of 
mind  I  was  in  ;  overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  and  without  a  com- 
panion of  any  kind  :  and  therefore,  I  must  of  necessity  go  to 
some  other  place.  I  sold  all  the  living  things  I  had  to  friar 
FLEMING,  and  locked  up  my  doors.  My  furniture,  linen,  clothes 
books,  liquors,  and  some  salt  provisions,  instruments  of  various 
kinds,  and  such  like  things,  I  left  in  their  several  places.  There 
was  no  one  to  take  them,  or  probability  that  any  one  would  come 
there  to  disturb  them  ;  and  perhaps,  some  time  or  other,  the  fates 
might  bring  me  back  again  to  the  same  lone  place.  Though  it 
was  then  a  desolate,  silent  habitation,  a  striking  memento  of  the 
vanity  and  precarious  existence  of  all  human  good  things  ;  yet 
it  was  possible,  that  hearty  friendship,  festivity,  and  social  life, 
might  once  more  be  seen  there.  The  force  and  operation  of 
casualties  did  wonders  every  day,  and  time  might  give  me  even  a 
relish  for  the  solitude  in  a  few  years  more.  Thus  did  I  settle 
affairs  in  that  remote  place  ;  and,  taking  leave  of  my  friend,  the 
friar,  with  my  lad  O'FiN,  rode  off. 

May  5th,  1727. — The  sun  was  rising  when  we  mounted  our 
horses,  and  I  again  went  out  to  try  my  fortune  in  the  world  ;  not 
like  the  Chevalier  La  Mancha,  in  hopes  of  conquering  a  kingdom, 
or  marrying  some  great  Princess  ;  but  to  see  if  I  could  find  another 
good  country  girl  for  a  wife,  and  get  a  little  more  money  ;  as  they 
were  the  only  two  things  united,  that  could  secure  me  from 
melancholy,  and  confer  real  happiness.  To  this  purpose,  as  the 
day  was  extremely  fine,  and  O'FiN  had  something  cold,  and  a 
couple  of  bottles  at  the  end  of  his  valise,  I  gave  my  horse  the  rein 
and  let  him  take  what  way  his  fancy  chose.  For  some  time  he 
gently  trotted  the  path  he  had  often  gone,  and  over  many  a 
mountain  made  his  road  ;  but  at  last,  he  brought  me  to  a  place  I 
was  quite  a  stranger  to,  and  made  a  full  stop  at  a  deep  and  rapid 
water,  which  ran  by  the  bottom  of  a  very  high  hill  I  had  not  been 
before.  Over  this  river  I  made  him  go,  though  it  was  far  from 
being  safe,  and  in  an  hour's  ride  from  that  flood,  came  to  a  fine 
rural  scene. 

It  was  pasture-ground,  of  a  large  extent,  and  in  many  places 
covered  with  groves  of  trees,  of  various  kinds  ;  walnuts,  chesnuts 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  235 

and  oaks  ;  the  poplar,  the  plane-tree,  the  mulberry,  and  maple. 
There  was  likewise  the  Phoenician  cedar,  the  larix,  the  large- 
leaved  laurel,  and  the  cytisus  of  Virgil.  In  the  middle  of  this 
place  were  the  ruins  of  an  old  seat,  over-run  with  shrubby  plants, 
the  Virginia  creeper,  the  box- thorn,  the  jessamine,  the  honey- 
suckle, the  periwinkle,  the  birdweed,  the  ivy,  and  the  climber  ; 
and  near  the  door  was  a  flowing  spring  of  water,  which  formed  a 
beautiful  stream,  and  babbled  to  the  river  we  came  from.  Charm- 
ing scene  !  so  silent,  sweet,  and  pretty,  that  I  was  highly  pleased 
with  the  discovery. 

On  the  margin  of  the  brook,  under  a  mulberry  tree,  I  sat  down 
and  dined  on  some  cold  tongue  and  ham,  and  potted  black  cock, 
which  O'FiN  produced  from  his  wallet ;  and  having  drank  a  pint 
of  cyder,  set  out  again,  to  try  what  land  lay  right  onwards.  In 
an  hour,  we  came  to  a  large  and  dangerous  watery  moor,  which  we 
crossed  over  with  great  difficulty,  and  then  arrived  at  a  range  of 
mountains,through  which  there  was  a  narrow  pass,  wet  and  stony, 
a  long  and  tedious  ride  which  ended  on  the  border  of  a  fine  country  ; 
at  four  in  the  afternoon,  we  arrived  on  the  confines  of  a  plain,  of 
about  a  hundred  acres,  which  was  strewed  with  various  flowers 
of  the  earth's  natural  produce  that  rendered  the  glebe  delightful 
to  behold,  and  was  surrounded  with  groves.  The  place  had  all 
the  charms  that  verdure,  forest,  and  vale,  can  give  a  country.  In 
the  centre  of  this  ground  was  a  handsome  square  building,  and 
behind  it  a  large  and  beautiful  garden,  encompassed  by  a  low, 
thick  holly-hedge.  As  the  door  of  this  house  was  not  locked  but 
opened  by  a  silver  spring  turner,  I  went  in,  and  found  it  was  one 
spacious  room,  filled  on  every  side  with  books,  bound  in  an  extra- 
ordinary manner.  Globes,  telescopes,  and  other  instruments  of 
various  kinds,  were  placed  on  stands,  and  there  were  two  fine 
writing  tables,  one  at  each  end  of  the  library,  which  had  paper, 
ink,  and  pens.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  there  was  a  reading-desk, 
which  had  a  short  inscription,  and  on  it  leaned  the  skeleton 
of  a  man.  The  legend  said  "  THIS  SKELETON  WAS  ONCE  CHARLES 
HENLEY,  ESQ." 

Amazed  I  stood,  looking  on  these  things,  and  wondered  much 
at  the  figure  of  the  bones,  tacked  together  with  wires  ;  once,  to  be 
sure,  the  master  of  this  grand  collection  of  books  and  manuscripts, 
and  this  fine  room,  so  sweetly  situated  in  the  centre  of  distant 
groves  ;  had  a  striking  effect  on  my  mind  ;  and  the  more  so,  as  it 
held  a  scroll  of  parchment,  on  which  was  beautifully  written  in 
the  court-hand,  to  appear  more  remarkable,  I  suppose,  the 
following  lines  : 

"  Fellow-mortal,  whoever  thou  art,  whom  the  fates  shall  con- 
duct into  this  chamber,  remember,  that  before  many  years  are 
passed,  thou  must  be  laid  in  the  bed  of  corruption,  in  the  dark 
caverns  of  death,  among  the  lifeless  dust,  and  rotten  bones  of 


236  THE  LIFE  OF 


others,  and  from  the  grave  proceed  to  the  general  resurrection  oi 
all.  To  new  life  and  vigour  thou  wilt  most  certainly  be  raised,  to 
be  brought  to  a  great  account.  Naked  and  defenceless  thou  must 
stand  before  the  awful  tribunal  of  the  great  God,  and  from  him 
receive  a  final  sentence,  which  shall  determine  and  fix  thee  in  an 
eternal  state  of  happiness  or  misery. 

"  What  an  alarm  should  this  be  !  Ponder  my  fellow- mortal,  and 
remember,  God  now  commandeth  men  every  where  to  repent, 
because  he  hath  appointed  a  day,  in  which  he  will  judge  the  world 
in  righteousness,  by  that  man,  whom  he  hath  ordained  ;  whereof 
he  hath  given  assurance  unto  all  men,  in  that  he  hath  raised  him 
from  the  dead.  Judge  the  world  !  judgment !  the  very  sound  is 
solemn.  Should  it  not  deaden  some  part,  at  least,  of  your 
concern  for  things  temporal,  and  quicken  your  care  and  industry 
for  the  future  life  ;  ought  it  not  to  make  us  condemn,  before  the 
dying  hour,  our  vanity  and  devotion  to  bodily  things  and  make  us 
employ  the  greatest  part  of  our  time  in  the  acquisition  of  wisdom, 
and  an  improvement  in  virtue,  that  when  we  appear  at  the  session 
of  righteousness,  a  sacred  knowledge,  a  heavenly  piety,  and  an 
angelic  goodness,  may  secure  us  from  eternal  punishment,  and 
entitle  us  to  a  glorious  eternity  ?  Since  a  future  judgment  is 
most  certainly  the  case,  and  the  consequence  eternal  damnation 
or  salvation,  how  contemptible  a  thing  is  a  long  busy  life,  spent 
in  raking  through  the  mire  of  trade  and  business,  in  pursuit  of 
riches  and  a  large  estate  ;  or  in  sweating  up  the  steep  hill  of  am- 
bition, after  fame  and  ambition  ;  or  in  living  and  dressing  as 
if  we  were  all  body,  and  sent  into  time  for  no  other  purpose,  than 
to  adorn  like  idols,  gratify  like  brutes,  and  waste  life  in  sensuality 
and  vanity  ;  how  contemptible  and  unreasonable  is  this  kind  of 
existence  for  beings  who  were  created  to  no  other  end,  than  to  be 
partakers  of  a  divine  life  with  God,  and  sing  hallelujahs  to  all 
eternity  ;  to  separate  the  creature  from  error,  fiction,  impurity, 
and  corruption,  and  acquire  that  purity  and  holiness,  which 
alone  can  see  God.  Away  then  with  a  worldly  heart :  away 
with  all  those  follies,  which  engage  us  like  fools  and  madmen ; 
and  let  the  principal  thing  be,  to  follow  the  steps  of  our 
great  master,  by  patience  and  resignation,  by  a  charity  and  con- 
tempt of  the  world  ;  and  by  keeping  a  conscience  void  of  offence, 
amidst  the  changes  and  chances  of  this  mortal  life  ;  that  at  his 
second  coming,  to  judge  the  world,  we  may  be  found  acceptable 
in  his  sight. 

"  What  a  scene  must  this  second  coming  be  !  I  saw,  says  an 
apostle,  a  great  white  throne,  and  him  that  sat  on  it,  from  whose 
face  the  earth  and  the  heavens  fled  away,  and  there  was  no  place 
found  for  them  ;  and  I  saw  the  dead  small  and  great  stand  before 
God  ;  and  the  books  were  opened,  and  the  dead  were  judged  out 
of  those  things  which  were  written  i  the  books  :  and  the  sea  gave 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  237 

up  her  dead,  and  death  and  hell  delivered  up  their  dead  which 
were  in  them,  and  they  were  judged  every  man,  according  to  their 
works.  The  secret  wickedness  of  men  will  be  brought  to  light ; 
and  concealed  piety  and  persecuted  virtue  be  acknowledged  and 
honoured.  While  innocence  and  piety  are  set  at  the  right  hand 
of  the  judge,  and  the  righteous  shall  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in 
the  kingdom  of  their  father  for  ever  and  ever,  shame  and  con- 
fusion must  sit  upon  the  faces  of  the  sinner  and  the  ungodly. 
Damnation  will  stand  before  the  brethren  in  iniquity,  and  when 
the  intolerable  sentence  is  executed,  what  inexpressible  agonies 
will  they  fall  into  ?  what  amazement  and  excesses  of  horror  must 
seize  upon  them  ? 

"  Ponder  then,  in  time,  fellow-mortal,  and  choose  to  be  good, 
rather  than  to  be  great :  prefer  your  baptismal  vows  to  the  pomps 
and  vanities  of  this  world  ;  and  value  the  secret  whispers  of  a  good 
conscience  more  than  the  noise  of  popular  applause. 

Since  you  must  appear  before  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ ; 
that  every  one  may  receive  the  things  done  in  his  body,  according 
to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad,  let  it  be  your  work 
from  morning  till  night,  to  keep  Jesus  in  your  hearts  ;  and  long 
for  nothing,  desire  nothing,  hope  for  nothing,  but  to  have  all  that 
is  within  you  changed  into  the  spirit  and  temper  of  the  holy 
Jesus.  Wherever  you  go,  whatever  you  do,  do  all  in  imitation 
of  his  temper  and  inclination  ;  and  look  upon  all  as  nothing,  but 
that  which  exercises  and  increases  the  spirit  and  life  of  Christ  in 
your  souls.  Let  this  be  your  Christianity,  your  Church,  and  your 
religion,  and  the  judgment-day  will  be  a  charming  scene.  If 
in  this  world,  the  will  of  the  creature,  as  an  offspring  of  the  divine 
will,  wills  and  works  with  the  will  of  God,  and  labours,  without 
ceasing,  to  come  as  near  as  mortals  can  to  the  purity  and  perfection 
of  the  divine  nature  ;  then  will  the  day  of  the  Lord  be  a  day  of 
great  joy,  and  with  unutterable  pleasure,  you  shall  hear  that 
tremendous  voice  :  Awake,  ye  dead,  and  come  to  judgment.  In 
transports,  and  full  of  honour  and  glory,  the  wise  and  righteous 
will  hear  the  happy  sentence,  Come  ye  blessed  of  my  father,  inherit 
the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  from  the  foundation  of  the  world." 

This,  and  the  skeleton,  astonished  me  not  a  little  ;  and  my 
wonder  at  the  whole  increased,  as  I  could  find  no  human  creature 
living,  nor  discover  any  house  or  cottage  for  an  inhabitant.  This 
I  thought  exceeded  all  the  strange  things  I  had  seen  in  this  wonder- 
ful country.  But  perhaps,  it  occurred  at  last,  there  might  be  a 
mansion  in  the  woods,  before  me,  or  somewhere  in  the  groves  on 
either  side  ;  and  therefore,  leaving  the  library,  after  I  had  spent 
an  hour  in  it,  I  walked  onwards,  and  came  to  a  wood  which  had 
private  walks  cut  through  it,  and  strewed  with  sand.  They  shewed 
only  light  enough  to  distinguish  the  blaze  of  day  from  evening 
shade,  and  had  seats  dispersed,  to  sit  and  listen  to  the  chorus  of 


238  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  birds,  which  added  to  the  pleasures  of  the  soft  silent  place. 
For  about  three  hundred  yards  the  walk  I  was  in  extended,  and 
then  terminated  in  meadows,  which  formed  an  oval  of  twenty  acres 
surrounded  by  groves,  like  the  large  plain  I  came  from.  Exactly 
in  the  middle  of  these  fields,  part  of  which  were  turned  into 
gardens,  there  stood  a  very  handsome  stone  house,  and  not  far 
from  the  door  of  it,  a  fountain  played.  On  either  side  of  the 
water  was  a  garden-chair,  of  a  very  extraordinary  make,  curious 
and  beautiful ;  and  each  of  them  stood  under  an  ever-green  oak, 
the  broad  leaved  ilex,  a  charming  shade. 

In  one  of  these  chairs  sat  an  ancient  gentleman,  a  venerable 
man,  whose  hair  was  white  as  silver,  and  his  countenance  had 
dignity  and  goodness.  His  dress  and  manner  shewed  him  to  be 
a  person  of  fortune  and  distinction,  and  by  a  servant  in  waiting 
it  appeared,  he  was  Lord  of  the  seigneurie  I  was  arrived  at.  He 
was  tall  and  graceful,  and  had  not  the  least  stoop,  though  he 
wanted  but  a  year  of  an  hundred.  I  could  not  but  admire  the 
fine  old  gentleman. 

On  the  same  chair,  next  to  him,  sat  a  young  Lady,  who  was  at 
this  time  just  turned  of  twenty  and  had  such  diffusive  charms 
as  soon  new  fired  my  heart,  and  gave  my  soul  a  softness  even 
beyond  what  it  had  felt  before.  She  was  a  little  taller  than  the 
middle  size,  and  had  a  face  that  was  perfectly  beautiful.  Her 
eyes  were  extremely  fine,  full,  black  and  sparkling  ;  and  her  con- 
versation was  as  charming  as  her  person  ;  both  easy,  uncon- 
strained, and  sprightly.  When  I  came  near  two  such  personages, 
I  bowed  low  to  the  ground,  and  asked  pardon  for  intruding  into 
their  fine  retirement.  But  the  stars  had  led  me,  a  wanderer,  to 
this  delightful  solitude,  without  the  least  idea  of  there  being 
such  a  place  in  our  island,  and  as  their  malignant  rays  had  forced 
me  to  offend,  without  intending  it,  I  hoped  they  would  pardon  my 
breaking  in  upon  them. 

To  this  the  old  Gentleman  replied,  "  You  have  not  offended, 
Sir,  I  assure  you,  but  you  are  welcome  to  the  Groves  of  Basil.  It 
gives  me  pleasure  to  see  you  here  ;  for  it  is  very  seldom  we  are 
favoured  with  any  one's  company.  It  is  hard  to  discover  or 
make  out  a  road  to  this  place,  as  we  are  surrounded  almost  by 
impassible  mountains,  and  a  very  dangerous  morass,  nor  can  I 
conceive  how  you  found  the  way  here  without  a  guide,  or  ven- 
tured to  travel  this  country,  as  there  are  no  towns  in  this  part  of 
the  county.  There  must  be  something  very  extraordinary  in 
your  case,  and  as  you  mentioned  your  being  a  wanderer,  I  should 
be  glad  to  hear  the  cause  of  your  journeying  in  this  uninhabited 
region.  But  first,"  said  Mr.  HENLEY,  "as  it  is  now  near  eight 
at  night,  and  you  must  want  refreshment,  having  met  with  no  inn 
the  whole  day,  we  will  go  in  to  supper."  He  then  arose,  and 
brought  me  to  an  elegant  parlour,  where  a  table  was  soon  covered 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  239 

with  the  best  cold  things,  and  we  immediately  sat  down.  Every 
eatable  was  excellent,  and  the  wine  and  other  liquors  in  perfection. 
Miss  HENLEY  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  her  grandfather  over- 
against  her,  and  placed  me  at  her  right  hand  between  them  both. 
The  young  lady  behaved  in  a  very  easy  genteel  manner  ;  and  the 
old  gentleman,  with  freedom,  cheerfulness,  and  good  manners. 
Till  nine  this  scene  lasted,  and  then  Mr.  Henley  again  requested 
I  would  oblige  him  with  an  account  of  my  travels  in  that  part 
of  the  world.  This,  I  said,  I  would  do  in  the  best  manner  I 
could,  and  while  he  leaned  back  in  his  easy  chair,  and  the  beauti- 
ful STATIA  fastened  her  glorious  eyes  upon  me,  I  went  on  in  the 
following  words  : 

"  I  am  an  Englishman,  Sir,  but  have  passed  the  greatest  part 
of  my  life  in  Ireland,  and  from  the  western  extremity  of  it  I  came. 
My  father  is  one  of  the  rich  men  in  that  kingdom,  and  was,  for 
many  years,  the  tenderest  and  most  generous  parent  that  ever 
son  was  blessed  with.  He  spared  no  cost  on  my  education,  and 
gave  me  leave  to  draw  upon  him,  while  I  resided  in  the  university 
of  Dublin  five  years,  for  what  I  pleased.  Extravagant  as  I  was  in 
several  articles,  he  never  set  any  bounds  to  my  demands,  nor 
asked  me  what  I  did  with  the  large  sums  I  had  yearly  from  him. 
My  happiness  was  his  felicity,  and  the  glory  of  his  life  to  have 
me  appear  to  the  greatest  advantage,  and  in  the  most  respected 
character,  that  money  can  gain  a  man. 

"  But  at  last  he  married  his  servant  maid,  an  artful  cruel 
woman,  who  obtained  by  her  wit  and  charms  so  great  an  ascendant 
over  him,  that  he  abandoned  me,  to  raise  a  young  nephew  this 
step-mother  had,  to  what  splendor  and  power  she  pleased.  He 
had  everything  he  could  name  that  money  could  procure,  and 
was  absolutely  master  of  the  house  and  land.  Not  a  shilling  at 
this  time  could  I  get,  nor  obtain  the  least  thing  I  asked  for,  and 
because  I  refused  to  become  preceptor  to  this  young  man,  and 
had  made  some  alteration  in  my  religion,  having  renounced  that 
creed,  which  was  composed  nobody  knows  by  whom,  and  intro- 
duced into  the  church  in  the  darkest  ages  of  popish  ignorance ;  a 
symbol,  which  strongly  participates  of  the  true  nature  and  spirit 
of  popery,  in  those  severe  denunciations  of  God's  wrath,  which 
it  pours  so  plentifully  forth  against  all  those  whose  heads  are  not 
turned  to  believe  it ;  my  father  was  so  enraged  that  he  would  not 
even  admit  me  to  his  table  any  longer,  but  bid  me  be  gone.  My 
mother-in-law  likewise  for  ever  abused  me,  and  her  nephew,  the 
lad,  insulted  me  when  I  came  in  his  way. 

"  Being  thus  compelled  to  withdraw,  I  set  sail  for  England  as 
soon  as  it  was  in  my  power,  and  arrived  in  Cumberland  by  the 
force  of  a  storm.  I  proceeded  from  thence  to  the  mountains 
of  Stanemore,  to  look  for  a  gentleman,  my  friend,  who  lived  among 
those  hills  ;  and  as  I  journeyed  over  them,  and  missed  him,  I 


24o  THE  LIFE  OF 


chanced  to  meet  with  a  fine  northern  girl,  and  a  habitation  to  my 
purpose.  I  married  her,  and  for  almost  two  years  past  was  the 
happiest  of  the  human  race,  till  the  sable  curtain  fell  between  us, 
and  the  angel  of  death  translated  her  glorious  soul  to  the  fields  of 
paradise.  Not  able  to  bear  the  place  of  our  residence,  after  I  had 
lost  my  heart's  fond  idol,  I  left  the  charming  spot  and  mansion, 
where  unmixed  felicity  had  been  for  some  time  my  portion,  and  I 
was  travelling  on  towards  London,  to  see  what  is  ordained  there 
in  reserve  for  me  ;  when  by  accident  I  lost  my  way,  and  the  fates 
conducted  me  to  the  Groves  of  Basil.  Curiosity  led  me  into  the 
library  I  found  in  the  plain,  without  this  wood,  from  whence,  in 
search  for  some  human  creatures,  I  proceeded  to  the  fountain, 
where  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,  Sir,  and  this  young  Lady. 
This  is  a  summary  of  my  past  life  ;  what  is  before  me  heaven  only 
knows.  My  fortune  I  trust  with  the  Preserver  of  men,  and  the 
Father  of  spirits.  One  thing  I  am  certain  of  by  observation,  few 
as  the  days  of  the  years  of  my  pilgrimage  have  been,  that  the 
emptiness,  and  unsatisfying  nature  of  this  world's  enjoyments,  are 
enough  to  prevent  my  having  any  fondness  to  stay  in  this  region 
of  darkness  and  sorrow.  I  shall  never  leap  over  the  bars  of  life, 
let  what  will  happen  ;  but  the  sooner  I  have  leave  to  depart,  I 
shall  think  it  the  better  for  me." 

The  old  gentleman  seemed  surprised  at  my  story,  and  after 
some  moments  silence,  when  I  had  done,  he  said,  "  Your  measure, 
Sir,  is  hard,  and  as  it  was,  in  part,  for  declaring  against  a  false 
religion  at  your  years,  you  please  me  so  much,  that  if  you  will 
give  me  leave,  I  will  be  your  friend,  and  as  a  subaltern  providence, 
recompense  your  loss  as  to  fortune  in  this  world.  In  what 
manner  you  shall  know  to-morrow,  when  we  breakfast  at  eight. 
It  is  now  time  to  finish  our  bottle,  that  we  may,  according  to 
our  custom,  betimes  retire." 

August  4th,  1727. — At  the  time  appointed  I  met  the  old  gentleman 
in  the  parlour,  and  just  as  we  had  done  saluting  each  other, 
STATIA  entered,  bright  and  charming  as  Aurora.  She  was  in  a 
rich  dress,  and  her  bright  victorious  eyes  flashed  a  celestial  fire. 
She  made  our  tea,  and  gave  me  some  of  her  coffee.  She  asked  me 
a  few  civil  questions,  and  said  two  or  three  good  things  on  the 
beauties  of  the  morning,  and  the  charms  of  the  country.  She 
left  us  the  moment  we  had  done  breakfast,  and  then  the  old  gentle- 
man addressed  himself  to  me  in  the  following  words  : 

"  I  do  not  forget  the  promise  I  made  you,  but  must  first  relate 
the  history  of  my  family.  I  do  it  with  the  more  pleasure,  as  I 
find  you  are  of  our  religion,  and  I  cannot  help  having  a  regard  for 
you,  on  your  daring  to  throw  up  a  fortune  for  truth  ;  for  bravely 
daring  to  renounce  those  systems,  which  have  an  outward  ortho- 
dox roundness  given  to  them  by  their  eloquent  defenders,  and 
within  are  mere  corruption  and  apostacy. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  241 

'The  skeleton  you  saw  in  the  library  was  once  my  son,  CHARLES 
HEJLEY,  a  most  extraordinary  man.  He  had  great  abilities, 
and  understood  every  thing  a  mortal  is  capable  of  knowing,  of 
thinjs  human  and  divine.  When  he  was  in  his  nineteenth 
year,  I  took  him  to  France  and  other  countries,  to  see  the  world, 
and  oa  our  return  to  England,  married  him  into  a  noble  family,  to 
a  very  valuable  young  woman,  of  a  large  fortune,  and  by  her  he 
had  the  young  lady  you  saw  sitting  on  the  chair  near  the  table 
by  me.  This  son  I  lost,  three  years  after  his  marriage,  and  with 
him  all  relish  for  the  world  ;  and  being  naturally  inclined  to  retire- 
ment and  a  speculative  life,  never  stirred  since  from  this  country- 
house.  Here  my  son  devoted  himself  entirely  to  study,  and  amused 
himself  with  instructing  his  beloved  STATIA,  the  young  lady 
you  have  seen.  At  his  death  he  consigned  her  to  my  care  ;  and 
as  her  understanding  is  very  great,  and  her  disposition  sweet  and 
charming,  I  have  not  only  taken  great  pains  in  educating  her, 
but  have  beea  delighted  with  my  employment.  Young  as  she  is, 
but  in  the  second  month  of  her  one  and  twentieth  year,  she 
not  only  knows  more  than  women  of  distinction  generally  do,  but 
would  be  the  admiration  of  learned  men,  if  her  knowledge  in 
languages,  mathematics,  and  philosophy,  were  known  to  them  : 
and  as  her  father  taught  her  music  and  painting,  perhaps  there  is 
not  a  young  woman  of  finer  accomplishments  in  the  kingdom. 

"  Her  father  died  towards  the  end  of  the  year  1723,  in  the 
thirty-ninth  year  of  his  age,  when  she  was  not  quite  sixteen,  and 
by  his  will  left  her  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  Basil-House  and 
estate  ;  but  she  is  not  to  inherit  it,  or  marry,  until  she  is  two  and 
twenty.  This  was  her  father's  will.  As  to  the  skeleton  in  the 
library,  it  was  my  son's  express  order  it  should  be  so,  and  that  the 
figure  should  not  be  removed  from  the  place  it  stands  in,  while  the 
library  remained  in  that  room  ;  but  continue  a  solemn  memorial 
in  his  family  to  perpetuate  his  memory,  and  be  a  memento  mori 
to  the  living. 

"  This  is  the  history  of  Basil  Groves,  and  the  late  owner  of  this 
seat,  and  his  daughter  STATIA.  We  live  a  happy,  religious  life 
here,  and  enjoy  every  blessing  that  can  be  desired  in  this  lower 
hemisphere.  But  :  s  I  am  not  very  far  from  a  hundred  years, 
having  passed  that  ninety- two  which  Sir  William  Temple  says  he 
never  knew  any  one  he  was  acquainted  with  arrive  at,  I  must  be 
on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  expect  every  day  to  drop  into  it. 
What  may  become  of  STATIA,  then,  gives  me  some  trouble  to 
think,  as  all  her  relations,  except  myself  are  in  the  other  world. 
To  spend  her  life  here  in  this  solitude,  as  seems  to  be  her  inclina- 
tion, is  not  proper  ;  and  to  go  into  the  world  by  herself,  when  I 
am  dead,  without  knowing  any  mortal  in  it,  may  involve  her  in 
troubles  and  distresses.  Hear  then,  my  son,  what  I  propose  to 
you.  You  are  a  young  man,  but  serious.  You  have  got  some 


242  THE  LIFE  OF 

wisdom  in  the  school  of  affliction,  and  you  have  no  aversion  to 
matrimony,  as  you  have  just  buried,  you  say,  a  glorious  wo.nan, 
your  wife.  If  you  will  stay  with  us  here,  till  STATIA  is  two  and 
twenty,  and  in  that  time  render  yourself  agreeable  to  ier,  I 
promise  you,  she  shall  be  yours  the  day  she  enters  the  three  and 
twentieth  year  of  her  age,  and  you  shall  have  with  her  fortme,  all 
that  I  am  owner  of,  which  is  no  small  sum.  What  do  you  say 
to  this  proposal  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  you  do  me  vast  honour,  much  more  I  am  sure 
than  my  merits  can  pretend  to.  I  am  infinitely  obliged  to  you, 
and  must  be  blind  and  insensible,  if  I  refused  such  a  woman 
as  Miss  HENLEY,  were  she  far  from  being  the  fortune  she  is.  But 
I  have  not  vanity  enough  to  imagine,  I  can  gain  her  affections  ; 
especially  in  my  circumstances,  and  to  get  her  by  your  authority 
or  power  of  disposing  of  her,  is  what  I  cannot  think  of;  I  will 
stay  however,  a  few  months  here,  since  you  so  generously  invite 
me,  and  let  Miss  HENLEY  know,  I  will  be  her  humble  servant,  if 
she  will  allow  me  the  honour  of  bearing  that  title."  This  made 
the  old  gentleman  laugh,  and  he  took  me  by  the  hand,  saying, 
"  This  is  right.  Come,  let  us  go  and  take  a  walk  before  dinner." 

There  I  passed  the  winter,  and  part  of  the  spring,  and  lived  in  a 
delightful  manner.  The  mornings  I  generally  spent  in  the  library, 
reading,  or  writing  extracts  from  some  curious  MSS.  or  scarce 
books  ;  and  in  the  afternoons  Miss  HENLEY  and  I  walked  in  the 
lawns  and  woods,  or  sat  down  to  cards.  She  was  a  fine  creature 
indeed  in  body  and  soul,  had  a  beautiful  understanding,  and 
charmed  me  to  a  high  degree.  Her  conversation  was  rational 
and  easy,  without  the  least  affectation  from  the  books  she  had 
read  ;  and  she  would  enliven  it  so&btimes  by  singing,  in  which 
kind  of  music  she  was  as  great  a  mStess  as  I  have  heard.  As 
to  her  heart,  I  found  it  was  to  be  gained  ;  but  an  accident  hap- 
pened that  put  a  stop  to  the  amour. 

1728. — In  the  beginning  of  March,  the  old  gentleman,  the 
excellent  Mr.  HENLEY,  STATIA'S  grandfather  and  guardian  and 
my  great  friend,  died,  and  by  his  death  a  great  alteration  ensued 
in  my  affair.  I  thought  to  have  had  Miss  HENLEY  immediately, 
as  there  was  no  one  to  plead  her  father's  will  against  the  marriage, 
and  intended  to  send  O'FiN  for  friar  FLEMING  ;  but  when  StATiA 
saw  herself  her  own  mistress,  without  any  superior,  or  controul, 
and  in  possession  of  large  fortunes,  money,  and  an  estate,  that  she 
might  do  as  she  pleased  ;  this  had  an  effect  on  her  mind,  and  made 
a  change.  She  told  me,  when  I  addressed  myself  to  her,  after 
her  grandfather  was  interred,  "  that  what  she  intended  to 
do,  in  obedience  to  him,  had  he  lived,  she  thought  required  very 
serious  consideration  now  she  was  left  to  herself  :  that,  exclusive 
of  this,  her  inclination  really  was  for  a  single  life  ;  and  had  it 
been  otherwise,  yet  it  was  not  proper,  since  her  guardian  was 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  243 

dead,  that  I  should  live  with  her  till  the  time  limited  by  her 
father's  will  for  her  to  marry  was  come  ;  but  that,  as  she  had  too 
good  an  opinion  of  me  to  imagine  her  fortune  was  what  chiefly 
urged  my  application,  and  must  own  she  had  a  regard  for  me, 
she  would  be  glad  to  hear  from  me  sometimes,  if  I  could  think  her 
worth  remembering,  after  I  had  left  the  Groves  of  Basil."  This  she 
said  with  great  seriousness,  and  seemed  by  her  manner  to  forbid 
my  urging  any  further. 

"  I  assured  her,  however,  that  time  only  could  wear  out  her 
charming  image  from  my  mind,  and  that  I  had  reason  to  fear,  she 
would  long  remain  the  torment  of  my  heart.  She  had  a  right  to 
be  sure  to  dismiss  me  from  her  service  ;  but  in  respect  of  her 
inclination  to  live  a  single  life,  I  begged  leave  to  observe,  that  it 
was  certainly  quite  wrong,  and  what  she  could  not  answer  to  the 
wise  and  bountiful  Father  of  the  Universe,  as  she  was  a  Christian 
and  by  being  so,  must  believe,  that  baptism  was  a  memorial  of  the 
covenant  of  grace. 

The  Catholics  and  the  Vision-mongers  of  the  protestant  side, 
the  Rev.  Wm.  Law  and  others  of  his  row,  may  magnify  the  ex- 
cellence of  celibacy  as  high  as  they  please,  and  work  it  into 
Christian  perfection,  by  sounding  words  and  eloquent  pens  ;  but 
most  surely  revelation  was  directly  against  them,  and  required 
the  faithful  to  produce  in  a  regular  way. 

"  Consider,  illustrious  STATIA,  that  when  the  Most  High  gave 
the  Abrahamic  covenant  in  these  words,  I  will  be  a  God  unto  thee, 
and  to  thy  seed  after  thee,  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  families, 
or  nations  of  the  earth,  be  blessed  ;  which  includes  an  interest  in 
God,  as  a  God,  father  and  friend,  for  ever  and  a  share  in  all  the 
blessings  wherewith  the  Messiah,  in  the  gospel,  hath  enriched  the 
world  ;  these  inestimable  blessings  and  promises  of  life  and 
favour,  were  designed  by  the  divine  munificence  for  rising  genera- 
tions of  mankind  ;  and  it  was  most  certainly  intended,  not  only 
that  they  should  be  received  with  the  highest  gratitude  and  duty, 
but  that  they  should  be  strongly  inculcated  upon  the  thoughts  of 
succeeding  generations,  by  an  instituted  sign  or  memorial,  to  the 
end  of  the  world. 

"  Circumcision  was  the  first  appointed  token  or  memorial,  and 
at  the  same  time,  an  instruction  in  that  moral  rectitude  to  which 
the  grace  of  God  obliges  :  and  when  the  New  Testament  succeeded 
the  Law,  then  was  the  covenant  interest  of  infants,  or  their  right 
to  the  covenant  of  grace,  to  be  confirmed  by  the  token  or  sign 
called  baptism  ;  that  action  being  appointed  to  give  the  expected 
rising  generation  an  interest  in  the  love  of  God,  the  grace  of  Christ, 
and  the  fellowship  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  that  is,  in  all  covenant  bless- 
ings. But  what  becomes  of  this  great  charter  of  heaven,  if  Christian 
women,  out  of  an  idle  notion  of  perfection,  will  resolve  to  lead 
single  lives,  and  thereby  hinder  rising  generations  from  sharing 


244  THE  LIFE  OF 


in  the  honours  and  privileges  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ.  Mil- 
lions of  the  faithful  must  thereby  be  deprived  of  the  token  insti- 
tuted by  God  to  convey  to  them  those  covenant  blessings,  which 
his  love  and  goodness  designed  for  the  rising  generations  of  his 
people.  Have  a  care  then  what  you  do,  illustrious  STATIA,  in  this 
particular.  It  must  be  a  great  crime  to  hinder  the  regular  pro- 
pagation of  a  species,  which  God  hath  declared  to  be  under  his 
particular  inspection  and  blessing,  and  by  circumcision  and  bap- 
tism, hath  made  the  special  object  of  divine  attention  and  care. 
Away  then  with  all  thoughts  of  a  virgin  life,  whatever  becomes  of 
me.  As  God  hath  appointed  matrimony  and  baptism,  let  it  be 
your  pious  endeavour  to  bear  sons  and  daughters,  that  may  be 
related  to  God,  their  Father  ;  to  Jesus,  their  Redeemer,  and  first 
born  in  the  family  ;  and  to  all  the  excellent,  who  are  to  enjoy, 
through  him,  the  blessings  of  the  glorious  world  above.  Marry, 
then,  illustrious  STATIA,  marry,  and  let  the  blessing  of  Abraham 
come  upon  us  gentiles.  Oppose  not  the  gospel  covenant ;  that 
covenant  which  was  made  with  that  patriarch  ;  but  mind  the 
comfortable  promises  ;  I  will  circumcise  thy  heart,  and  the  heart 
of  thy  seed.  I  will  pour  out  my  spirit  upon  thy  seed,  and  my 
blessing  upon  thine  offspring.  The  seed  of  the  righteous  is  blessed. 
They  are  the  seed  of  the  blessed  of  the  Lord,  and  their  offspring 
with  them.  Such  is  the  magna  charta  of  our  existence  and  future 
happiness  :  and  as  infants  descending  from  Abraham,  in  the  line 
of  election,  to  the  end  of  the  world,  have  as  good  a  right  and  claim 
as  we  to  the  blessings  of  this  covenant,  and  immense  promise,  I 
will  be  a  God  unto  thee,  and  to  thy  seed  after  thee,  in  their  genera- 
tions ;  it  must  be  a  great  crime,  to  deprive  children  of  this  intailed 
heavenly  inheritance,  by  our  resolving  to  live  in  a  state  of  virginity. 
In  my  opinion,  it  is  a  sin  greater  than  murder.  What  is  murder, 
but  forcing  one  from  his  post  against  the  will  of  Providence  ;  and 
if  the  virgin  hinders  a  being  or  beings  from  coming  on  the  post, 
against  the  will  of  Providence,  must  she  not  be  culpable  ;  and 
must  she  not  be  doubly  criminal,  if  th  s  being  or  beings  she  hinders 
from  coming  on  the  stage,  or  into  this  first  state,  were  to  be  a  part 
of  the  perpetual  generations,  who  have  a  right  to  the  inheritance, 
the  blessing,  and  were  to  be  heirs  according  to  the  promise  made 
to  Abraham  ?  Ponder,  illustrious  STATIA,  on  the  important  point. 
Consider  what  it  is  to  die  a  maid,  when  you  may,  in  a  regular  way, 
produce  heirs  to  that  inestimable  blessing  of  life  and  favour,  which 
the  munificence  of  the  Most  High  was  pleased  freely  to  bestow, 
and  which  the  great  Christian  mediator,  agent,  and  negociator, 
republished,  confirmed,  and  sealed  with  his  blood.  Marry  then 
in  regard  to  the  gospel,  and  let  it  be  the  fine  employment  of  your 
life,  to  open  gradually  the  treasures  of  revelation  to  the  under- 
standings of  the  little  Christians  you  produce. 

This  I  am  sure  your  holy  religion  requires  from  you  :  and  if 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  245 

from  the  sacred  oracles  we  turn  to  the  book  of  nature,  is  it  not  in 
this  volume  written,  that  there  must  be  a  malignity  in  the  hearts 
of  those  mortals,  who  can  remain  unconcerned  at  the  destruction 
and  extirpation  of  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  and  who  want  even  so 
much  good  will  as  is  requisite  to  propagate  a  creature,  in  a  regular 
and  hallowed  way,  though  they  received  their  own  being  from  the 
mere  benevolence  of  their^ divine  Master  ?  What  do  you  say,  illu- 
strious STATIA  ?  Shall  it  be  a  succession,  as  you  are  an  upright 
Christian  ?  And  may  I  hope  to  have  the  honour  of  sharing 
in  the  mutual  satisfaction  that  must  attend  the  discharge  of  so 
momentous  a  duty  ?* 

*  If  succession  be  the  main  thing,  and  to  prevent  the  extirpation  of  the  rest  of  mankind 
why  may  it  not  be  carried  on  as  well  without  marriage,  as  in  that  confined  way  ?  I  answer, 
that  as  the  author  and  founder  of  marriage  was  the  Antient  of  Days,  God  himself,  and  at  the 
creation,  he  appointed  the  institution  :  as  Christ,  who  was  vested  with  authority  to  abrogate 
any  laws,  or  supersede  any  custom,  in  which  were  found  any  flaw  or  obliquity,  or  had  not  an 
intrinsic  goodness  and  rectitude  in  them,  confirmed  the  ordinance,  by  reforming  the  abuses 
that  had  crept  into  it,  and  restoring  it  to  its  original  boundary  :  As  he  gave  a  sanction  to  this 
amicable  covenant,  and  statuted  that  men  should  maintain  the  dignity  of  the  conjugal  state, 
and  by  virtue  of  this  primordial  and  most  intimate  bond  of  society,  convey  down  the  race 
of  mankind,  and  maintain  its  succession  to  the  final  dissolution.  It  is  not  therefore  to  be 
neglected  or  disregarded.  We  must  not  dare  to  follow  our  fancies,  and  in  unhallowed  mix- 
tures, or  an  illegal  method,  have  any  posterity.  As  the  great  God  appointed  and  blessed 
this  institution  only,  for  the  continuance  of  mankind,  the  race  is  not  to  be  preserved  in 
another  way.  We  must  marry  in  the  Lord,  to  promote  his  glory  as  the  apostle  says,  i  Cor. 
ch.  vii.  v.  39.  The  earth  is  not  to  be  replenished  by  licentious  junction,  or  the  promiscuous 
use  of  women.  Dreadful  hereafter  must  be  the  case  of  all  who  slight  an  institution  of  God. 

I  am  sensible,  the  libertine  who  depreciates  and  vilifies  the  dignity  of  the  married  state 
will  laugh  at  this  assertion :  The  fop  and  debauchee  will  hiss  it,  and  still  do  their  best  to 
render  wedlock  the  subject  of  contempt  and  ridicule.  The  Roman  clergy  will  likewise  decry 
it,  and  injuriously  treat  it  as  an  impediment  to  devotion,  a  cramp  upon  the  spiritual  serving 
of  God,  and  call  it  an  instrument  of  pollution  and  defilement,  in  respect  of  their  heavenly 
celibacy. 

But  as  God  thought  marriage  was  suitable  to  a  paradisiacal  state,  and  the  scriptures  declare 
it  honourable  in  aU :  as  this  is  the  way  appointed  by  heaven  to  people  the  earth  ;  and  the 
institution  is  necessary,  in  the  reason  and  nature  of  things,  considering  the  circumstances 
in  which  mankind  is  placed ;  to  prevent  confusion,  and  promote  the  general  happiness ;  as 
the  bond  of  society,  and  the  foundation  of  all  human  government ;  sure  I  am,  the  rake  and 
the  mass-priest,  must  be  in  a  dreadful  situation  at  the  sessions  of  righteousness  ;  when  the  one 
is  charged  with  libertinism  and  gallantries,  with  madness  and  folly,  and  with  all  the  evils  and 
mischief  they  have  done  by  illicit  gratification,  contrary  to  reason,  and  in  direct  opposition 
to  the  institutes  of  God :  and  when  the  other,  the  miserable  mass-priests,  are  called  to  an 
account,  for  vilifying  the  honour  and  dignity  of  the  married  state,  and  for  striving  to  seduce 
mankind  into  the  solitary  retirements  of  celibacy,  in  violation  of  the  laws  of  God  ;  and  more 
especially  of  the  primary  law  or  ordinance  of  heaven.  Wretched  priests ;  your  institutions 
are  breaches  in  revealed  religion,  trespasses  upon  the  common  rights  of  nature,  and  such 
oppressive  yokes  as  it  is  not  able  to  bear.  Your  celibacy  has  not  a  grain  of  piety  in  it.  It  is 
policy  and  impiety. 

Hear  me  then,  ye  libertines  and  mass-priests :  I  call  upon  you  of  the  first  row,  ye  rakes  of 
genius,  to  consider  what  you  are  doing,  and  in  time  turn  from  your  iniquities  :  Be  no  longer 
profligate  and  licentious,  blind  to  your  true  interest  and  happiness,  but  become  virtuous  and 
honourable  lovers,  and  in  regard  to  the  advantages  of  this  solemn  institution,  called  wedlock, 
as  well  to  the  general  state  of  the  world,  as  to  individuals,  marry  in  the  Lord ;  so  will  you 
avoid  that  dreadful  sentence.  Fornicators  and  adulterers  God  will  judge,  that  is,  punish, 
and  irfb  this  life,  you  may  make  things  very  agreeable,  if  you  please  ;  though  it  is  in  the  heavenly 
world  alone,  where  there  shall  be  all  joy  and  no  sorrow.  Let  there  be  true  beauty  and  grace- 
fulness in  the  mind  and  manners,  and  these  with  discretion,  and  other  things  in  your  power 
will  furnish  a  fund  of  happiness  commensurate  with  your  lives.  It  is  possible,  I  am  sure  to 
make  marriage  productive  of  as  much  happiness  as  falls  to  our  share  in  this  lower  hemisphere 
as  the  nature  of  man  can  reach  to  in  his  present  condition.  For,  as  to  joy  flowing  in  with  a 
full,  constant  and  equal  tide,  without  interruption  and  without  allay,  there  is  no  such  thing. 
Human  nature  doth  not  admit  of  this.  "  The  sum  of  the  matter  is  this :  To  the  public  the 
advantages  of  marriage  are  certain,  whether  the  parties  will  or  no ;  but  to  the  parties  engag- 


246  THE  LIFE  OF 


All  the  smiles  sat  on  the  face  of  STATIA,  while  I  was  haranguing 
in  this  devout  manner,  and  her  countenance  became  a  constellation 
of  wonders.  When  I  had  done,  this  beauty  said,  "  I  thank 
you,  Sir,  for  the  information  you  have  given  me.  I  am  a  Christian. 
There  is  no  malignity  in  my  heart.  You  have  altered  my  way  of 
thinking,  and  I  now  declare  for  a  succession.  Let  Father  FLEMING 
be  sent  for,  and  without  waiting  for  my  being  two  and  twenty, 
or  minding  my  father's  will,  as  there  is  no  one  to  oblige  me  to  it, 
I  will  give  you  my  hand."  Charming  news  !  I  dispatched  my 
lad  for  the  friar.  The  priest  arrived  the  next  day,  and  at  night  we 
were  married.  Three  days  after  we  set  out  for  Orton-Lodge,  at 
my  wife's  request,  as  she  longed  to  see  the  place.  For  two  years 
more  I  resided  there  ;  it  being  more  agreeable  to  STATIA  than  the 
improved  Groves  of  Basil.  We  lived  there  in  as  much  happiness 
as  it  is  possible  to  have  in  this  lower  hemisphere,  and  much  in  the 
same  manner  as  I  did  with  CHARLOTTE  my  first  wife.  STATIA  had 
all  the  good  qualities  and  perfections  which  rendered  CHARLOTTE 
so  dear  and  valuable  to  me  ;  like  her  she  studied  to  increase  the 
delights  of  every  day,  and  by  art,  good  humour,  and  love,  rendered 
the  married  state  such  a  system  of  joys  as  might  incline  one  to 
wish  it  could  last  a  thousand  years  :  But  it  was  too  sublime  and 
desirable  to  have  a  long  existence  here.  STATIA  was  taken  ill  of 
the  small-pox,  the  morning  we  intended  to  return  to  Basil  Groves  ; 
she  died  the  seventh  day,  and  I  laid  her  by  CHARLOTTE'S  side. 
Thus  did  I  again  become  a  mourner.  I  sat  with  my  eyes  shut  for 
three  days,  but  atUast,  called  for  my  horse  to  try  what  air,  exer- 
cise, and  a  variety  of  objects  could  do. 

April  i,  1729. — Very  early,  as  soon  as  I  could  see  day,  I  left 
Orton-Lodge,  and  went  to  Basil  Groves,  to  order  matters  there. 
From  thence  I  set  out  for  Harrowgate-Spa  to  amuse  myself  in  that 
agreeable  place  ;  but  I  did  not  go  the  way  I  came  to  Mr.  HENLEY'S 
house.  To  avoid  the  dangerous  morass  I  had  passed,  at  the 
hazard  of  my  life,  we  went  over  a  wilder  and  more  romantic  coun- 
try than  I  had  before  seen.  We  had  higher  mountains  to  ascend 
than  I  had  ever  passed  before  ;  and  some  valleys  so  very  deep  to 
ride  through,  that  they  seemed  as  it  were  descents  to  hell.  The 
patriarch  Bermudez,  in  journeying  over  Abyssinia*,  never 

ing,  not  so :  to  them  it  is  a  fountain  that  sendeth  forth  both  sweet  and  bitter  waters.  To 
those  who  mind  their  duty  and  obligations  sweet  ones ;  to  those  who  neglect  them  bitter 
ones." 

In  the  next  place,  ye  monks,  I  would  persuade  you,  if  I  could,  to  labour  no  longer  in  striv- 
ing to  cancel  the  obligations  to  marriage  by  the  pretence  of  religion.  The  voice  of  heaven 
and  the  whispers  of  sound  and  uncorrupted  reason  are  against  it.  It  is  will-worship  in  opposi- 
tion to  revelation.  It  is  such  a  presumption  for  a  creature  against  the  author  of  our  nature, 
as  must  draw  down  uncommon  wrath  upon  the  head  of  every  mass-priest,  who  does  not  repent 
their  preaching  such  wicked  doctrine.  Indeed  I  do  not  know  any  part  of  popery  that  can  be 
called  Christianity  :  but  this  in  particular  is  so  horrible  and  diabolical,  that  I  can  consider 
the  preachers  for  celibacy  in  no  other  light  than  as  so  many  devils.  May  you  ponder  in  time 
on  this  horrible  affair. 

*  Relation  de  1'Ambassade,  dediSe  a  Don  Sebastien,  roy  de  Portugal. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  247 

travelled  in  more  frightful  glens.  And  yet,  we  often  came  to 
plains  and  vales  which  had  all  the  charms  a  paradise  could  have. 
Such  is  the  nature  of  this  country. 

Through  these  scenes,  an  amazing  mixture  of  the  terrible  and 
the  beautiful,  we  proceeded  from  five  in  the  morning  till  one  in 
the  afternoon, when  we  arrived  at  a  vast  waterfall,  which  descended 
from  a  precipice  near  two  hundred  yards  high,  into  a  deep  lake, 
that  emptied  itself  into  a  shallow  fifty  yards  from  the  catadure, 
or  fall,  and  went  I  suppose  to  the  abyss.  The  land  from  this  head- 
long river,  for  half  a  mile  in  length  and  breadth,  till  it  ended  at 
vast  mountains  again,  was  a  fine  piece  of  ground,  beautifully 
flowered  with  various  perennials,  the  acanthus,  the  aconus,  the 
adonis,  or  pheasant's  eye  the  purple  bistorta,  the  blue  borago,  the 
yellow  bupthalmum,  the  white  cacalia,  the  blue  campanula,  and 
the  sweet-smelling  cassia,  the  pretty  double  daisy,  the  crimson 
dianthus,  the  white  dictamnus,  the  red  fruximella,  and  many  other 
wild  flowers.  They  make  the  green  valley  look  charming  ;  and 
as  here  and  there  stood  two  or  three  ever-green  trees,  the  cypress, 
the  larix,  the  balm  of  Gilead,  and  the  Swedish  juniper,  the  whole 
spot  has  a  fine  and  delightful  effect.  On  my  arrival  here,  I  was 
at  a  loss  which  way  to  turn. 

I  could  not  however  be  long  in  suspense  how  to  proceed,  as  I  saw 
near  the  water-fall,  a  pretty  thatched  mansion,  and  several  in- 
habitants in  it.  I  found  these  were  a  religious  society  of  married 
people,  ten  friars  and  their  ten  wives,  who  had  agreed  to  retire  to 
this  still  retreat,  and  form  a  holy  house  on  the  plan  of  the  famous 
Ivon,  the  disciple  of  Labadie,  so  celebrated  on  account  of  his  con- 
nection with  Maria  Schurman*,  and  his  many  fanatical  writings. 

*Maria  Schurman,  was  born  at  Cologne,  on  the  sth  of  Nov.  1607,  and  died  at  Wieuweat 
in  Friesland,  on  the  5th  of.  May  1678,  in  the  seventy-first  year  of  her  age.  Jean  le  Labourer 
in  his  Histoire  du  Voyage  de  la  Reyne  de  Pologne,  printed  at  Paris  in  1648,  speaking  of  her 
surprising  endowments,  says,  "  Elle  respondet  en  Italien  a  Monsieur  d'Orange,  qui  I'interro- 
geoit  par  ordre  de  la  Regne,  et  elle  argumenta  tres-subtilement  en  Latin  sur  quelques  points 
de  theologie.  Elle  repartit  aussi  fort  ellegamment  en  mesme  langue,  au  compliment  que  je 
lui  fis  pour  Madame  la  Mareschalle.  Elle  parla  grec  avec  le  Sieur  Corrade  premier  medicin 
de  la  Regne.  Enfin  elle  nous  eust  encore  par!6  d'autres  langues  si  nous  les  eussions  sceues ; 
car  outre  la  Grecque,  la  Latine,  la  Francoise,  1'Italienne,  1'Espagnole,  1'Allemande,  et  leFla- 
man,  qui  lui  est  naturel,  elle  a  encore  beaucoup  de  connoissance  de  1'Hebreu,  Syriacque'et 
Chaldaique  ;  et  il  ne  lui  manque  qu'  un  peu  d'habitude  pour  les  parler."  Her  writings  entitled 
Opuscula  Hebraea,  Grajca,  Latina,  were  published  by  Frederic  Spanheim,  Professor  of  Dh  inity, 
in  1648,  in  i2mo.  There  ane  some  admirable  Latin  letters  on  moral  subjects  in  this  book. 
Her  epistle  de  Viice  Termino  to  Berovicius,  is  a  fine  thing.  See  how  she  concludes :  Unam 
tantum  sollicitudinem  nobis  reliquit  Deus,  ut,  quam  nobis  imposuit  provinciam  curemus 
sedulp  ante  rerum  eventum  ;  post  vero  in  hoc  uno  secure  acquiescamus,  quod  ille  sic  voluit 
qui  nisi  optima  velle  non  potest.  Audiamus,  obsecro,  divinam  illam  Epicteti  vocem  ;  semper 
magis  volo  quod  Deus  vult,  quam  quod  ego.  Adjungar  et  adhaerebo  illi,  velut  minister 
et  assecla  :  cum  illo  appeto,  cum  Ulo  desidero,  et  simpliciter  atque  uno  verbo  quod  Deus 
vult,  volo.  Hie  unica  Halcyonia  curarum  asstibus  ;  hie  animorum  per  ancipitia  fluctuantiurn 
static  tutissima :  hie  denique  terminus  in  quo  mente  et  calamo  acquiesco.  This  is 
beautiful. 

Her  other  work  is  called  Eukleria,  or  Bona  Pars,  in  allusion  to  Mary's  chusing  the  better 
part.  This  is  hard  to  be  met  with.  It  is  one  octavo  in  Latin,  and  though  it  be  not  without 
some  vision,  yet  it  is  in  the  main  a  beautiful  and  solid  performance.  It  is  in  the  manner  of 
Law's  Christian  Perfection,  and  has  several  sentiments  resembling  those  of  Madam  Guion  in 
her  Comment  on  the  New  Testament,  and  Madam  Bourignon,  in  her  numerous  works,  It  was 


248  THE  LIFE  OF 


A  book  called  the  Marriage  Chretien,  written  by  this  Ivon  'was 
their  directory,  and  from  it  they  formed  a  protestant  La  Trappe  ; 

the  famous  Labadie,  the  fanatic,  who  brought  Mrs.  Schurman  over  to  the  interior  life  and 
silent  worship,  in  the  forty-third  year  of  her  age,  and  from  that  time  to  her  dying-day,  she 
renounced  the  world,  and  never  went  to  public  worship.  The  men  of  learning  and  worth 
were  no  longer  seen  in  crouds  at  her  house,  engaged  with  her  in  the  noblest  literary  conver- 
sations ;  for  the  advancement  of  truth  and  the  sciences  ;  but  in  a  solitude,  purchased  by  her- 
self, she  moped  away  her  remaining  life  in  quietism,  and  holy  reveries,  and  parting  from  reason 
in  religion,  sunk  into  passive  unions  of  nothing  with  nothing,  and  became  the  prey  of  cunning 
and  stupid  religionists.  Her  house  was  always  full  of  them.  She  would  see  no  other  com- 
pany. The  holy  Labadie  expired  in  her  arms,  aged  sixty-four,  in  the  year  1674  ;  Mrs-  Schur- 
man being  then  sixty-seven.  What  a  deplorable  change  was  here,  and  owing  to  no  reason 
in  religion.  Adhere  to  reason  I  enjoin  you,  for  whoever  tells  you,  you  must  give  it  up  in  reli- 
gion, is  the  son  of  darkness,  and  the  truth  is  not  in  him. 

Labadie,  born  Feb.  13,  1610,  had  been  many  years  a  Jesuit,  then  Jansenist,  Carme  Soli- 
taire, Missionnaire,  and  Devot.  and  afterwards  by  the  interest  of  the  marquis  de  Favas,  a  pro- 
testant, was  made  minister  of  Montauban. 

Bayle,  Bernard,  and  Basnages,  in  the  Nouvelles  de  la  Republique  des  Lettres,  tell  a  strange 
story  of  this  man,  while  he  was  minister  at  Montauban  :  that  he  had  brought  over  a  beautiful 
young  lady,  Madamoiselle  de  Calonges,  to  the  interior  or  spiritual  life,  and  to  make  her  perfect 
in  what  they  call  '  la  spiritualite  et  1'oraison  mentale,'  he  told  her  she  must  be  absolutely 
alienated  from  all  sensible  objects  in  her  meditations,  and  lost  in  the  depths  of  reflection, 
'  dans  le  reveillement  interieure.'  To  this  purpose  he  gave  her  a  point  to  meditate  on,  and 
desired  she  would  give  it  her  whole  application,  as  she  sighed  after  Christian  perfection.  Miss 
de  Calognes  began,  and  the  director  left  her,  under  a4  detachement  absolu ; '  but  returned  in 
an  hour  or  two  to  her  chamber.  He  found  her  like  contemplation  on  a  monument ;  her  eyes 
fixed,  and  her  whole  body,  as  if  it  were!  a  petrefaction.  Softly  the  holy  man  approached ; 
strange  pleasures  filled  his  soul,  as  he  gazed  upon  his  heavenly  disciple,  and  believing  her 
quite  perfect,  from  her  attitude,  in  the  interior  way,  he  gently  put  his  pious  hand  upon  her 
lovely  breast,  and  began  to  feel  the  finest  tetons  in  the  world.  But  as  Mademoiselle  de 
Calonges  was  a  woman  of  sense  andjvirtue,  she  could  not  resign  to  this  part  of  interior  religion, 
and  started  up  in  a  passion,  giving  the  director  a  pounce,  and  asking  him  what  he  meant  by 
such  behaviour. 

The  minister  replied,  "  sans  etre  deconcerte,  et  avec  un  air  devot ;  je  vois  bien  ma  fille,  que 
vous  6tes  encore  bien  eloignee  de  la  perfection  reconnoissez,  humblement  votre  foiblesse,  et 
demandez  pardon  a  Dieu  d'avoir  etc  si  peu  attentive  aux  mysteres  que  vous  deviez  mediter 
Si  vous  y  aviez  apporte  tout  1'attention  necessaire.vous  ne  vous  fussiez  pas  apper^ue  de  ce 
qu'on  faissoit  a  votre  gorge.  Mais  vous  etiez  si  peu  detachee  des  sens  si  peu  concentree  avec, 
la  divinite,  que  vous  n'avez  pas  ete  un  moment  a  reconnoitre  que  je  vous  touchois.  Je  voulois 
eprouver  si  votre  serveur  dans  1'oraison  vous  elevoit  au  dessu  de  la  matiere  et  vous  unissoit 
au  souverain  etre,  la  vive  source  de  I'immortalite  et  de  la  spiritualite,  et  je  vois  avec  beaucou  p 
de  douleur,  que  vos  progres  sont  tres  petits :  vous  n'allez  que  que  terre  a  terre.  Que  ce  la 
vous  donnez  de  la  confusion,  ma  fille,  et  vous  porte  i  mieux  remplir  les  saints  devoirs  de  la 
pri6re  mentale." 

This  speech,  continue  the  historians,  was  so  far  from  satisfying  the  beautiful  Miss  Calonges, 
as  she  perceived  the  dreadful  consequence  of  such  doctrine,  and  knew  it  might  be  extended 
to  the  most  impure  transactions,  in  order  to  be  thoroughly  concentered  with  the  divinity, 
that  it  enraged  her  as  much  as  the  action  of  Labadie,  and  she  would  never  after  have  any 
more  to  say  to  him.  "  Elle  rompit  entierement  avec  luy."  Bayle  says  he  will  not  warrant 
the  truth  of  this  story,  and  Bernard  tells  us  he  has  some  doubt  about  it ;  but  Henry  Basnage 
in  his  Histoire  des  Ouvrages  des  Savans,  assures  us  he  had  the  account  of  this  affair  from  the 
mouth  of  Mademoiselle  de  Calonges  :  he  says  he  heard  her  relate  it  several  times,  and  that  she 
always  spoke  of  the  false  and  hypocritical  devotion  of  Labadie  with  horror.  But,  notwith- 
standing all  this,  I  have  some  doubts  as  to  the  veracity  of  Miss  Calonges'  relation,  not  that  I 
think  such  a  behaviour  has  never  been  practised  by  a  mystic,  for  there  is  a  lady  now  living, 
who  was  debauched  by  a  mass-priest,  while  he  was  instructing  her  how  to  be  perfect  in  the 
interior  life  and  abstraction.  He  first  made  a  convert  of  her  to  popery,  and  then  to  raise 
her  to  the  tip-top  saints,  consolidated  her  soul  to  an  impenetrable  centre,  and  taught  her  to 
pray  in  silence  in  the  inward  sanctuary,  without  any  regard  to  what  was  outward ;  the  more 
insensible,  the  more  perfect.  This  continued  for  some  time,  and  the  confessor  told  her  she 
was  in  a  fair  way  to  the  highest  degree  of  perfection ;  a  little  more  absence  from  the  body, 
and  she  was  quite  glorious.  In  short,  from  touching  the  tip  of  her  ear,  as  she  sat  like  one 
inanimate,  he  proceeded  to  the  most  illicit  liberties.  She  thought  him  an  angel  of  a  man, 
and  was  undone  by  the  uncommon  sanctity  he  wore,  and  the  strong  desire  she  had  to  be  a 
perfect  mystic. 

But  as  to  Labadie,  if  he  was  the  man  Miss  Calonges  reported  him,  is  it  to  be  thought  Mrs. 
Schurman  would  have  made  him  her  nearest  friend,  and  first  minister  in  the  management  of 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  249 

with  this  difference  from  the  Catholic  religious  men,  that  the 
friars  of  the  reformed  monastery  were  to  have  wives  in  their  con- 

her  house  and  religionists,  and  have  travelled  with  him  wherever  he  went.  Beside,  Mrs. 
Bourignon  did  not  make  this  an  objection  against  joining  him  and  Mrs.  Schurman.  Among 
the  many  books  written  by  Labadie,  and  by  him  published,  there  are  some  of  them  moral, 
and  extremely  pious :  and  more  than  this,  Ivon  was  his  principal  disciple,  and  all  I  think 
allow  he  was  one  of  the  most  pious  of  mortals,  though  a  thorough  visionary.  He  founded  a 
society  at  Wiewert,  which  was  another  la  Trappe.  "  Espece  d'Abbaye  de  la  Trap  dans  le 
parti  protestant,  tres  eloignee  de  1'esprit  de  mondanite,  reformez  dans  leurs  mceurs  et  dans 
leurs  dogmes,  says  Bayle  in  his  Nouvelles  for  November  1685.  And  the  Marriage  Chretien 
of  Ivon,  published  immediately  after  the  death  of  Labadie,  is  a  piece  of  sanctification  too 
severe  I  think  for  mortals.  I  imagine  then,  that  in  contempt  of  those  mystics  and  visionaries, 
there  may  be  some  things  overtold,  and  some  stories  received,  that  would  bear  mitigation, 
if  all  the  circumstances  relating  to  them  were  known.  It  is  bad  enough  that  there  are  mystics 
and  visionaries  in  the  world :  and  therefore,  if  I  could,  I  had  rather  discover  virtue  amidst 
their  intellectual  immoralities,  than  have  an  opportunity  of  displaying  imperfections  in  any 
of  their  hearts.  As  to  Labadie,  supposing  the  worst,  and  that  as  Henry  Basnage,  says,  he 
began  to  feel  the  breasts  of  Miss  Calonges,  might  not  the  attitude  of  the  charming  image,  and 
the  privacy  of  the  place,  be  too  much  for  the  poor  man,  as  they  say  she  was  a  prodigious  fine 
girl,  and  tempt  him  to  commit  an  indiscretion  he  might  be  very  sorry  for  after  ?  He  was  at 
that  time  a  huge,  strong,  healthy  he-mystic,  and  perhaps  had  a  bottle  of  [generous  in  his 
stomach. 

Madame  Bourignon,  whom  Thave  mentioned,  was  separated  from  her  earthly  tabernacle 
the  2oth  of  October,  1680,  St.  Vet.  anno ;  having  lived  sixty-four  years,  nine  months  and 
fourteen  days.  She  died  at  Franeker,  in  West  Friesland,  and  had  suffered  greatly  in  many 
persecutions.  She  had  an  extraordinary  fine  understanding,  and  would  have  been  a  valuable 
and  useful  creature,  if  she  had  not  gone  in  to  vision.  There  are  however  many  admirable 
things  in  her  works,  which  she  published  herself  at  several  times,  and  to  that  purpose,  had 
a  printing  house  of  her  own,  in  the  island  of  Nord-Strand  in  Holstein  ;  which  island  she  pur- 
chased from  Monsieur  Cort,  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  oratory.  Her  works  were  afterwards 
printed  at  Amsterdam,  1686,  in  nineteen  volumes  in  8vo.  A  presiding  good  sense  appears 
every  now  and  then  in  her  writings,  which  kept  her  from  sinking  into  the  profundities,  unions, 
and  annihilations,  of  Labadie,  whom  she  despised,  though  Mrs.  Schurman  was  so  fond  of  him. 
Labadie  wanted  her  to  come  and  live  with  him  and  Mrs.  Schurman,  and  be  one  of  the  perfec- 
tionists in  their  retreat.  He  pressed  her  to  it  but  she  would  have  no  connection  with  them. 
She  told  them  their  plan  and  economy  were  weak,  and  they  had  not  the  operation  of  the 
spirit  in  what  they  schemed  and  did.  The  two  best  books  in  this  lady's  works  are,  The  Light 
of  the  World,  and  Solid  Virtue.  They  have  been  translated  into  English  ;  but  are  not  now  to 
be  found. 

Madame  Guion,  another  illustrious  visionary  died  the  gth  of  June,  1717,  at  Blois,  in  the 
seventieth  year  of  her  age.  Fenelon,  archbishop  of  Cambray's  troubles  were  all  owing  to 
this  lady.  She  debauched  his  understanding  with  her  splendid  visions  and  notions  of  perfec- 
tion ana  quiet,  and  to  his  last  moment  he  had  the  most  singular  veneration  for  her,  and  thought 
her  to  be  what  our  grand  visionary,  the  reverend  William  Law,  calls  her  in  one  of  his  pieces 
against  Dr.  Trapp,  the  '  enlight'ned  Guion.'  Notwithstanding  the  prelate  made  a  public 
recantation,  through  fear,  of  his  maxims  of  the  saints,  yet  he  was  to  his  extreme  unction,  a 
thorough  Guionist ;  that  is,  by  associating  and  concentering  with  the  divinity,  as  Madame 
directed,  he  was  all  light,  all  eye,  all  spirit,  all  joy,  all  rest,  all  gladness,  all  love  ;  pure  love. 
These  are  their  terms.  They  rest  in  quietness,  and  are  absorbed  in  silent  spiritual  pleasure, 
and  inexpressible  sweetness.  Filled  with  a  rapt'rous  stillness,  they  sit  the  hours  away  at  a 
royal  banquet,  and  enjoy  a  divine  repose  in  the  sweet  fellowship  of  the  bridegroom.  They 
even  become  sometimes  like  angels  without  bodies,  so  exceeding  light  and  easy  do  they  feel 
themselves  with  the  body.  Wretched  delusion.  It  is  all  a  wild,  senseless  fancy.  It  wants 
the  beams  of  eternal  and  unalterable  reason,  and  therefore  can  never  be  that  useful,  glorious 
piety,  called  Christianity ;  can  never  be  that  heavenly  religion  which  was  promulgated  by 
Jesus  ;  which  consists  in  offering  prayers  with  our  lips,  praising  and  giving  thanks  to  the  one 
true  God  the  Father,  at  proper  seasons  ;  and  in  reducing  the  principles  of  the  gospel  to  prac- 
tice ;  by  a  righteousness  of  mind,  and  an  active  universal  benevolence. 

Madame  Guion's  works  are  twenty  volumes  of  Explications  and  Reflections  on  the  Old  and 
New  Testament,  concerning  the  Interior  Life.  Five  volumes  of  Spirituel  C  antiques  and  Em- 
blems on  Pure  Love.  Two  volumes  of  religious  discourses.  Four  volumes  of  Letters.  Her 
Life  in  three  volumes.  Three  volumes  of  Justifications  in  defence  of  herself  against  her  perse- 
cutors. And  two  volumes  entitled  Opuscules. 

As  to  Fenelon,  archbishop  of  Cambray,  he  was  a  great  and  beautiful  genius,  and  his  Tele- 
maque  cannot  be  enough  admired :  but  that  bright  genius  he  laid  at  the  foot  of  mystery  : 
His  noble  reason  he  would  not  use  in  religion,  and  therefore,  in  this  article,  was  as  poor  a 
creature  as  any  of  the  people.  His  maxims  of  the  saints  declare  the  weak  visionary ;  and 


250  THE  LIFE  OF 


vent ;  the  better  to  enable  them  to  obtain  Christian  perfection 
in  the  religious  life.  These  regulars,  men  and  women, were  a  most 
industrious  people,  never  idle  ;  but  between  their  hours  of  prayer 
always  at  work ;  the  men  were  employed  in  a  garden  of  ten  acres, 
to  provide  vegetables  and  fruit,  on  which  they  chiefly  lived  ;  or  in 
cutting  down  old  trees,  and  fitting  them  for  their  fire  :  and  the 
women  were  knitting,  spinning,  or  twisting  what  they  had  spun 
into  thread,  which  they  sold  for  three  shillings  a  pound  :  they 
were  all  together  in  a  large,  handsome  room  :  they  sat  quite  silent, 
kept  their  eyes  on  their  work,  and  seemed  more  attentive  to  some 
inward  meditations,  than  to  any  thing  that  appeared,  or  passed 
by  them.  They  looked  as  if  they  were  contented  and  happy. 
They  were  all  extremely  handsome,  and  quite  clean  ;  their  linen 
fine  and  white,  and  their  gowns  a  black  stuff.  The  women  dined 
at  one  table,  the  men  at  another  ;  but  all  sat  in  the  same  room. 
The  whole  house  was  in  bed  by  ten,  and  up  by  four  in  the  morning, 
winter  and  summer.  What  they  said  at  their  table  I  could  not 
hear,  as  they  spoke  low  and  little,  and  were  at  a  distance  from  me, 
in  a  large  apartment  :  but  the  conversation  of  the  men,  at  table, 
was  very  agreeable,  rational  and  improving.  I  observed  they  had 
a  great  many  children,  and  kept  four  women-servants  to  attend 
them,  and  do  the  work  of  the  house.  The  whole  pleased  me  very 
greatly.  I  thought  it  a  happy  institution. 

As  to  the  marriage  of  the  friars  in  this  cloist'ral  house,  their 
founder,  Ivon,  in  my  opinion,  was  quite  right  in  this  notion. 
Chaste  junction  cannot  have  the  least  imperfection  in  it,  as  it  is 
the  appointment  of  God,  and  the  inclination  to  a  coit  is  so  strongly 
impressed  on  the  machine  by  the  author  of  it ;  and  since  it  is 
quite  pure  and  perfect ;  since  it  was  wisely  intended  as  the  only 
best  expedient  to  keep  man  for  ever  innocent,  it  must  certainly 
be  much  better  for  a  regular  or  retreating  priest,  to  have  a  lawful 
female  companion  with  him  ;  and  so  the  woman  who  chuses  a 
convent,  and  dislikes  the  fashions  of  the  world,  to  have  her  good 
and  lawful  monk  every  night  in  her  arms  ;  to  love  and  procreate 
legally,  when  they  have  performed  all  the  holy  offices  of  the  day  ; 
and  then,  from  love  and  holy  generation,  return  again  to  prayer, 
and  all  the  heavenly  duties  of  the  cloistered  life  ;  than  to  live 
against  the  institution  of  nature  and  providence,  a  burning, 

his  submitting  them  afterwards  to  the  censure  of  the  man  of  sin,  called  the  sovereign  pontiff, 
renders  his  speculating  religious  character  very  despicable.  He  was  a  thorough  visionary; 
and  at  the  same  time  a  thorough  papist.  The  letter  he  dictated  for  Lewis  the  XlVth's  con- 
fessor, after  he  had  received  extreme  unction,  shews  that  no  man  ever  had  more  at  heart  that 
monstrous,  and  most  audacious  corruption  of  the  Christian  religion,  called  popery.  In  his 
expiring  moments  he  conjures  that  bloody  tyrant,  the  king  of  France,  to  order  him  a  successor 
that  will,  like  him  do  every  thing  to  oppose  and  suppress  the  Jansenists  ;  the  only  remaining 
light  within  the  vast  black  realms  of  papacy  :  Je  prendrai  la  liberte  de  demander  a  sa  majeste 
deux  graces,  qui  ne  regardent,  ni  ma  personne  ni  aucun  de  miens.  La  premiere  est  que  le 
roi  ait  la  bonte  de  me  donner  un  successeur  pieux,  et  regulier,  bon  et  ferme  coatre  le  J  ansen- 
sme.  lequel  est  prodigieusement  accredite  sur  cette  frontiere." 


JOHN  BUNCLES'ESQ.  251 

tortured  nun,  and  a  burning,  tortured  friar  ;  locked  up  in  walls, 
they  can  never  pass  and  under  the  government  of  some  old,  cross, 
impotent  superior.  There  is  some  fsense  in  such  a  Marriage 
Chretien  in  a  convent.  Ivon's  convent  is  well  enough.  A  cloister 
may  do  upon  his  plan,  with  the  dear  creature  by  one's  side,  after 
the  daily  labours  of  the  monk  are  over.  It  had  been  better,  if 
that  infallible  man,  the  Pope,  had  come  into  this  scheme.  How 
confortable  has  Ivon  made  it  to  the  human  race,  who  renounce  the 
dress  and  pageantry,  and  all  the  vanities  of  time.  Their  days  are 
spent  in  piety  and  usefulness  ;  and  at  night,  after  the  completorium, 
they  lie  down  together  in  the  most  heavenly  charity,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  first  great  hail,  endeavour  to  increase  and  multiply. 
This  is  a  divine  life.  I  am  for  a  cloister  on  these  terms.  It 
pleased  me  so  much  to  see  these  monks  march  off  with  their 
smiling  partners,  after  the  last  psalm,  that  I  could  not  help  wish- 
ing for  a  charmer  there,  that  I  might  commence  the  Married 
Regular,  and  add  to  the  stock  of  children  in  this  holy  house.  It 
is  really  a  fine  thing  to  monk  it  on  this  plan.  It  is  a  divine 
institution,  gentle  and  generous,  useful  and  pious. 

On  the  contrary,  how  cruel  is  the  Roman  Church,  to  make  per- 
fection consist  in  celibacy,  and  cause  so  many  millions  of  men 
and  women  to  live  at  an  eternal  distance  from  each  other,  without 
the  least  regard  to  the  given  points  of  contact !  How  unfriendly 
to  society  !  This  is  abusing  Christianity,  and  perverting  it 
to  most  pernicious  purposes  ;  under  a  pretence  of  raising  piety, 
by  giving  more  time  and  leisure  for  devotion.  For  it  never  can 
be  pious  either  in  design  or  practice,  to  cancel  any  moral  obliga- 
tion, or  to  make  void  any  command  of  God  :  and  as  to  prayer,  it 
may  go  along  with  every  other  duty,  and  be  performed  in  every 
state.  All  states  have  their  intermissions  ;  and  if  it  should  be 
otherwise  sometimes,  I  can  then,  while  discharging  any  duty,  or 
performing  any  office,  pray  as  well  in  my  heart,  O  God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner,  and  bless  me  with  the  blessing  of  thy  grace  and 
providence,  as  if  I  was  prostrate  before  an  altar.  What  Martha 
was  reproved  for,  was  on  account  of  her  being  too  solicitous  about 
the  things  of  this  life.  Where  this  is  not  the  case,  business  and 
the  world  are  far  from  being  a  hindrance  to  piety.  God  is  as  really 
glorified  in  the  discharge  of  relative  duties,  as  in  the  discharge  of 
those  which  more  immediately  relate  to  himself.  He  is  in  truth 
more  actively  glorified  by  our  discharging  well  the  relative  duties, 
and  we  thereby  may  become  more  extensively  useful  in  the 
church  and  in  the  world,  may  be  more  public  blessings,  than  it  is 
possible  to  be  in  a  single  pious  state.  In  short,  this  one  thing, 
celibacy,  were  there  nothing  else,  the  making  the  unmarried  state 
a  more  holy  state  than  marriage,  shews  the  prodigious  nonsense 
and  impiety  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  and  is  reason  enough  to  flee 
that  communion,  if  we  had  no  other  reasons  for  protesting 


252  THE  LIFE  OF 


against  it.  The  tenet  is  so  superstitious  and  dangerous,  that  it 
may  well  be  esteemed  a  doctrine  of  those  devils,  who  are  the 
seducers  and  destroyers  of  mankind ;  but  it  is,  says  Wallace,  in 
his  Dissertation  on  the  Numbers  of  Manhood,  suitable  to  the  views 
and  designs  of  a  church,  which  has  discovered  such  an  enormous 
ambition,  and  made  such  havock  of  the  human  race,  in  order  to 
raise,  establish,  and  preserve  an  usurped  and  tyrannical  power. 

But  as  to  the  Married  Regulars  I  have  mentioned  ;  they  were 
very  glad  to  see  me,  and  entertained  me  with  great  civility  and 
goodness.  I  lived  a  week  with  them,  and  was  not  only  well  fed 
with  vegetables  and  puddings  on  their  lean  days,  Wednesdays  and 
Fridays,  and  with  plain  meat,  and  good  malt  drink,  on  the  other 
days  ;  but  was  greatly  delighted  with  their  manner  and  piety, 
their  sense  and  knowledge.  I  will  give  my  pious  readers  a  sample 
of  their  prayers,  as  I  imagine  it  may  be  to  edification.  These  friars 
officiate  in  their  turns,  changing  every  day  ;  and  the  morning  and 
evening  prayers  of  one  of  them,  were  in  the  words  following.  I 
took  them  off  in  my  shorthand. 

A    PRAYER   FOR   MORNING. 

"  Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  the  creator  and  preserver  of  all 
things,  our  law- giver,  saviour,  and  judge,  we  adore  thee,  the  author 
of  our  beings,  and  the  father  of  our  spirits.  We  present  ourselves, 
our  acknowledgments,  and  our  homage,  at  the  foot  of  thy  throne, 
and  yield  thee  the  thanks  of  the  most  grateful  hearts  for  all  the 
instances  of  thy  favour  which  we  have  experienced.  We  thank 
thee  for  ever,  O  Lord  God  Almighty,  for  all  thy  mercies  and  blessing 
vouchsafed  us  ;  for  defending  us  the  past  night  from  evil,  and  for 
that  kind  provision  which  thou  hast  made  for  our  comfortable 
subsistence  in  this  world. 

"  But  above  all,  most  glorious  Eternal,  adored  be  thy  goodness, 
for  repeating  and  reinforcing  the  laws  and  the  religion  of  thy 
creation,  by  supernatural  revelation,  and  for  giving  us  that  reason 
of  mind,  which  unites  us  to  thee,  and  makes  us  implore  thy  com- 
munications of  righteousness,  to  create  us  again  unto  good  works 
in  Christ  Jesus. 

"  We  confess,  O  Lord,  that  we  have  done  violence  to  our  prin- 
ciples, and  alienated  ourselves  from  the  natural  use  we  were  fitted 
for  :  we  have  revolted  from  thee  into  a  state  of  sin,  and  by  the 
operation  of  sense  and  passion,  have  been  moved  to  such  practices 
as  are  exorbitant  and  irregular  :  but  we  are  heartily  sorry  for  all 
our  misdoings  :  to  thee  in  Christ  we  now  make  our  address,  and 
beseech  thee  to  inform  our  understandings,  and  refine  our  spirits, 
that  we  may  reform  our  lives  by  repentence,  redeem  our  time  by 
righteousness,  and  live  as  the  glorious  gospel  of  thy  Son  requires. 
Let  the  divine  spirit  assist  and  enable  us  to  over-rule,  conduct,  and 
employ,  the  subordinate  and  inferior  powers,  in  the  exercise  of 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  *53 

virtue,  and  the  service  of  our  Creator,  and  as  far  as  the  imper- 
fections of  our  present  state  will  admit,  help  us  so  to  live  by  the 
measures  and  laws  of  heaven,  that  we  may  have  the  humility  and 
meekness,  the  mortification  and  self-denial  of  the  holy  Jesus,  his 
love  of  thee,  his  desire  of  doing  thy  will,  and  seeking  only  thy 
honour.  Let  us  not  come  covered  before  thee  under  a  form  of 
godliness,  a  cloke  of  creeds,  observances  and  institutions  of 
religion  ;  but  with  that  inward  salvation  and  vital  sanctity,  which 
renounces  the  spirit,  wisdom,  and  honours  of  this  world,  dethrones 
self-love  and  pride,  subdues  sensuality  and  covetousness,  and 
opens  a  kingdom  of  heaven  within  by  the  spirit  of  God.  O  let 
thy  Christ  be  our  Saviour  in  this  world,  and  before  we  die,  make 
us  fit  to  live  for  ever  with  thee  in  the  regions  of  purity  and  per- 
fection. 

"  Since  it  is  the  peculiar  privilege  of  our  nature,  through 
thy  mercy  and  goodness,  that  we  are  made  for  an  eternal  enter- 
tainment in  those  glorious  mansions,  where  the  blessed  society  of 
saints  and  angels  shall  keep  an  everlasting  sabbath,  and  adore  and 
glorify  thee  for  ever,  let  thy  inspiring  spirit  raise  our  appre- 
hensions and  desires  above  all  things  that  are  here  below,  and 
alienate  our  minds  from  the  customs  and  principles  of  this  mad, 
degenerate,  and  apostate  world  :  mind  us  of  the  shortness  and 
uncertainty  of  time,  of  the  boundless  duration,  and  the  vast 
importance  of  eternity,  and  so  enable  us  to  imitate  the  example 
of  the  holy  Jesus  in  this  world,  that  we  may  hereafter  ascend, 
with  the  greatest  ardour  of  divine  love,  to  those  realms  of  holiness, 
where  our  hearts  will  be  filled  with  raptures  of  gladness  and  joy, 
and  we  shall  remain  in  the  highest  glory  for  ever  and  ever. 

"  We  live,  O  Lord,  in  reconciliation  and  friendship,  in  love  and 
good  will,  with  thy  whole  creation,  with  every  thing  that  de- 
rives from  thee,  holds  of  thee,  is  owned  by  thee  ;  and  under  the 
power  of  this  affection,  we  pray  for  all  mankind  ;  that  they  may 
be  partakers  of  all  the  blessings  which  we  enjoy  or  want,  and  that 
we  may  all  be  happy  in  the  world  to  come,  and  glorify  thee 
together  in  eternity.  To  this  end  bring  all  the  human  race  to  the 
knowledge  of  thy  glorious  gospel,  and  let  its  influence  trans- 
form them  into  the  likeness  of  Christ. 

"  But  especially,  we  pray  for  all  who  suffer  for  truth  and 
righteousness  sake,  and  beseech  thee  to  prosper  those  that  love 
thee.  Defend,  O  Lord,  the  just  rights  and  liberties  of  mankind, 
and  rescue  thy  religion  from  the  corruptions  which  have  been 
introduced  upon  it,  by  length  of  time,  and  by  decay  of  piety. 
Infatuate  the  counsels,  and  frustrate  the  endeavours  of  the  priests 
of  Rome,  and  against  all  the  designs  of  those,  who  are  enemies 
to  the  purity  of  the  gcspel,  and  substitute  human  inventions  in 
the  place  of  revealed  religion  ;  prosper  the  pious  labours  of  those 
who  teach  mankind  to  worship  one  eternal  and  omnipresent 


254  THE  LIFE  OF 


being  :  in  whose  understanding,  there  is  the  perfection  of  wisdom  ; 
in  whose  will,  there  is  the  perfection  of  goodness  ;  in  whose  actions, 
there  is  the  perfection  of  power  ;  a  God  without  cause,  the  great 
creator,  benefactor,  and  saviour  of  men  : — And  that  the  duty 
of  man  is  to  obey,  in  thought,  word,  and  deed,  the  precepts  of 
godliness  and  righteousness,  without  regard  to  pleasure,  gain,  or 
honour  :  to  pain,  loss,  or  disgrace  ;  diligently  imitating  the  life  of 
the  holy  Jesus,  and  stedfastly  confiding  in  his  mediation. 

"  In  the  last  place,  O  Lord  God  Almighty,  we  beseech  thee  to 
continue  us  under  thy  protection,  guidance,  and  blessing  this 
day,  as  the  followers  and  disciples  of  thy  Christ,  through  whom 
we  recommend  our  souls  and  our  bodies  into  thy  hands,  and 
according  to  the  doctrine  of  his  religion,  say,  Our  Father,  &c." 

In  this  manner,  did  these  pious  Ivonites  begin  their  every  day  ; 
and  when  the  sun  was  set,  and  they  had  finished  their  supper, 
they  worshipped  God  again  in  these  words. 

A    PRAYER   FOR   NIGHT. 

"  Most  blessed,  glorious,  and  holy  Lord  God  Almighty,  who 
art  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  God  over  all,  magnified  and 
adored  for  ever  !  we,  thy  unworthy  creatures,  humble  our  souls 
in  thy  presence,  and  confess  ourselves  miserable  sinners.  We 
acknowledge  our  miscarriages  and  faults,  and  condemn  ourselves 
for  having  done  amiss.  We  deprecate  thy  just  offence  and  dis- 
pleasure. We  cry  thee  mercy.  We  ask  thee  pardon  :  and  as  we 
are  quite  sensible  of  our  weakness  and  inability,  and  know  thou 
lovest  the  souls  of  men,  when  they  turn  and  repent,  we  beseech 
thee  to  give  us  true  repentance,  and  endue  us  with  the  grace  of 
thy  sanctifying  spirit,  that  we  may  be  delivered  from  the  bondage 
and  slavery  of  iniquity,  and  have  the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  which 
is  in  Christ  Jesus.  Upon  thee  our  God,  we  call  for  that  help 
which  is  never  wanting,  and  beseech  thee  to  give  us  thy  heavenly 
assistance,  that  we  may  recover  our  reasonable  nature,  refine 
our  spirits  by  goodness,  and  purify  ourselves  even  as  the  Lord 
Jesus  is  pure.  O  thou  Father  of  Lights,  and  the  God  of  all 
comforts,  inform  our  understandings,  with  truth,  and  give  us 
one  ray  of  that  divine  wisdom  which  sitteth  on  the  right  hand  of 
thy  throne.  O  let  us  be  always  under  thy  communication  and 
influence,  and  enable  us,  through  the  recommendation  of  thy 
Son,  our  mediator  and  redeemer,  to  lay  aside  all  passion,  pre- 
judice, and  vice,  to  receive  thy  truth  in  the  love  of  it,  and  to 
serve  thee  with  ingenuity  of  mind,  and  freedom  of  spirit :  that 
we  may  pass  through  a  religious  life  to  a  blessed  immortality, 
and  come  to  that  eternal  rest ;  where  we  shall  behold  thy  face 
in  righteousness,  and  adore  and  bless  thee  to  eternity,  for  our 
salvation  through  him  who  hath  redeemed  us  by  his  blood. 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  255 

"  We  praise  and  magnify  thy  goodness,  O  Lord  God  Almighty, 
for  our  maintenance  and  preservation,  by  thy  constant  providence 
over  us,  and  we  beseech  thee  to  take  us  into  thy  special  care 
and  protection  this  night.  Defend  us  from  all  the  powers  of 
darkness,  and  from  evil  men  and  evil  things  and  raise  us  in  health 
and  safety.  Do  thou,  most  great  and  good  God,  protect  us  and 
bless  us  this  night,  and  when  we  awake  in  the  morning,  let  our 
hearts  be  with  thee,  and  thy  hand  with  us.  And  the  same  mercies 
we  beg  for  all  mankind ;  that  thy  goodness  and  power  may 
preserve  them,  and  thy  direction  and  influence  secure  their  eternal 
salvation,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  by  whom  thou  hast 
taught  us  to  call  upon  thee  as  our  Father,  &c." 

By  the  way,  I  cannot  help  observing,  that  these  disciples  of 
Ivon  are  much  reformed  in  respect  of  what  his  cloistered  followers 
were  in  his  time.  It  appears  from  Ivon's  books,  that  he  was  as 
great  a  visionary  and  tritheist  as  his  master  Labadie,  or  any  of 
our  modern  mystics  now  are.  But  these  Regulars  I  found  among 
the  fells,  though  on  Ivon's  plan,  are  as  rational  Christians  as  ever 
adorned  the  religion  of  our  Master  by  a  purity  of  faith.  You  see 
by  their  prayers,  that  their  devotions  are  quite  reasonable  and 
calm.  There  is  no  rant,  nor  words  without  meaning,  no  feeling 
instead  of  seeing  the  truth  ;  nor  expectation  of  covenant  mercy 
on  the  belief  of  a  point  repugnant  not  only  to  the  reason  and 
nature  of  things,  but  to  the  plain  repeated  declarations  of  God 
in  the  Christian  religion.  Their  prayer  is  a  calm  address  to  the 
great  Maker,  Governor,  and  Benefactor  of  the  universe  ;  and 
honour  and  obedience  to  Christ  as  Mediator,  according  to  the 
will  and  appointment  of  God  the  Father. 

Upon  my  asking  one  of  these  gentlemen,  how  they  came  to 
differ  so  much  from  Ivon,  their  founder,  and  cease  to  be  the 
patrons  of  vision,  and  an  implicit  incomprehensible  faith  ?  He 
told  me,  they  had  read  all  the  books  on  both  sides  of  the  question, 
that  had  been  written  of  late  years,  and  could  not  resist  the  force 
of  the  evidence  in  favour  of  reason  and  the  divine  unity.  They 
saw  it  go  against  mechanical  impulse,  and  strong  persuasion 
without  grounds,  and  therefore  they  dismissed  Ivon's  notions  of 
believing  without  ideas,  as  they  became  sensible  it  was  the  same 
thing  as  seeing  without  light  or  objects.  Without  dealing  any 
longer  in  a  mist  of  words,  or  shewing  themselves  orthodox,  by 
empty,  insignificant  sounds,  they  resolved  that  the  object  of  their 
worship,  for  the  time  to  come,  should  be,  that  one  supreme  self- 
existent  being,  of  absolute,  infinite  perfection,  who  is  the  first 
cause  of  all  things,  and  whose  numerical  identity  and  infinite 
perfections  are  demonstrable  from  certain  principles  of  reason, 
antecedent  to  any  peculiar  revelation  ;  and  confessed  that  the 
blessing,  with  which  Jesus  Christ  was  sent  by  God  to  bless  the 
world,  consists  in  turning  men  from  their  iniquities.  They  now 


256  THE  LIFE  OF 


perceived  what  the  creed-makers,  and  I  von,  their  founder,  could 
not  see,  to  wit,  that  it  is  against  the  sacred  texts  to  ascribe  to 
Each  Person  of  Three  the  nature  and  all  essential  attributes  and 
properties  of  the  One  only  true  God,  and  yet  make  the  Three  the 
One  true  God  only,  when  considered  conjunctly  ;  for  if  Each  has 
all  possible  perfections  and  attributes,  then  each  must  be  the 
same  true  God  as  if  and  when  conjoined  ;  and  of  consequence, 
there  must  then  be  Three  One  true  Gods,  or  One  Three  true  Gods  ; 
Three   One   Supreme   Beings,   or   One  Three   Supreme   Beings, 
since  to  each  of  the  three  must  be  ascribed,  as  the  orthodox 
say,  any  thing  and  every  thing,  that  is  most  peculiar  and  appro- 
priated to  the  divine  nature,  without  any  difference.     In  short 
by  conjobbling  matters  of  faith  in  this  manner,  they  saw  we  had 
three  distinct  selfs,  or  intelligent  agents,  equal  in  power  and  all 
possible  perfections,  agreeing  in  one  common  essence,  one  sort  of 
species,  like  a  supreme  magistracy  of  distinct  persons,  acting  by  a 
joint  exercise  of  the  same  power,  and  so  the  three  are  one,  not  by 
a  numerical  but  specific  identity  :  three  Omnipotents  and  one 
Almighty,  in  a  collective  sense.     This,   continued  the  gentle- 
man on  searching  the  scriptures,  we  found  was  far  from  being  the 
truth  of  the  case.     We  discovered,  upon  a  fair  examination,  and 
laying  aside  our  old  prejudices,  that  there  was  nothing  like  this 
in  the  New  Testament.     It  appeared  to  us  to  be  the  confused 
talk  of  weak  heads.     In  the  Bible  we   got  a  just  idea  of   one 
Eternal  Cause,  God  the  Father,  almighty,  all-wise,  unchangeable, 
infinite  ;  and  are  there  taught  how  to  worship  and  serve  him. 
The  greatest  care  is  there  taken  to  guard  against  the  ill  effects  of 
imagination  and  superstition  ;  and  in  the  plainest  language,  we 
are  ordered  to  pray  to  this  blessed  and  only  potentate,  the  King 
of  kings,  and  Lord  of  lords,  who  only,  or  alone  hath  immortality ; 
and  this  in  imitation  of  Jesus,  who  in  the  morning  very  early  went 
out  into  a  solitary  place,  and  there  prayed.*     Who  dismissing 
his  disciples  departed  into  a  mountain  to  pray.|     And  he  con- 
tinued all  night  in  prayer  to  GOD.  J     We  are  ordered  to  glorify 
and  bless  this  only  wise  God  for  ever.§     Blessed  be  the  God  and 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. ||     To  God  and  our  Father  be 
glory  for  ever.^j     And  to  love  him  truly  by  keeping  the  com- 
mandments.**    Cui     Jesus    sic    respondit  :     primum    omnium 
praeceptorum  est ;  audi  Israelita.     Dominus  Deus  vester  dominus 
unus  est.     Itaque  dominum  Deum  tuum  toto  corde,  toto  animo, 
tota  mente,  totisque  viribus  amato.     Hoc  primum  est  praeceptum. 
Hear,  O  Israel,  the  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord.      And  thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul, 
and  with  all  thy  strength.     This  is  the  first  commandment. 

*  Mark,  ch.  i.  v.  35.  t  Mark,  ch.  vi.  v.  46.  J  Luke,  ch.  vi.  v.  12.  §  Romans 
ch.  xvi.  v.  27.  ||  2  Cor.  ch.  i.  v.  3.  H  Phil.  ch.  iv.  v.  20.  **  Mark,  ch  ill.  v.  29. 
30,  31- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  257 

Et  voici  le  second.  Vous  aimerez  vostre  prochain  comme 
vous  meme.  And  the  second  is  like  the  first.  Hunc  simile  est 
alterum,  alterum  ut  teipsum  amato.  His  majus  aliud  praecep- 
tum  nullum  est.  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thy  self. 
There  is  none  other  commandment  greater  than  these. 

To  say  it ;  we  became  fully  satisfied,  that  the  supreme  God  and 
governor  of  the  world,  who  exists  by  a  prior  necessity,  and  there- 
fore must  be  one,  a  perfect  moral  agent,  and  possessed  of  all 
moral  perfections,  is  the  sole  object  of  religious  worship  :  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  a  temporary  minister,  with  a  legatarian  power, 
to  publish  and  declare  the  spiritual  laws  of  this  great  God :  and 
that  it  is  incumbent  on  mankind  to  yield  a  perfect  obedience  to 
these  spiritual  laws  of  this  Supreme  Being  :  that  is,  the  duty  of 
all,  to  make  the  object  proposed  by  Christ,  his  God  and  our  God, 
his  Father  and  our  Father,  the  sole  object  of  faith  ;  and  to  expect 
happiness  or  salvation,  on  the  term  of  being  turned  from  all  our 
iniquities.  This  seemed  a  matter  worthy  of  the  Son  of  God's 
appearing  in  the  world.  Every  thing  else  must  be  enthusiasm 
and  usurpation. 

Here  the  Ivonist  had  done,  and  I  was  greatly  pleased  with  his 
sense  and  piety.  "  What  a  heavenly  Christianity  should  we 
profess,"  I  said,  "  if  the  notions  of  our  modern  enthusiasts  were 
as  consistent  with  Christ's  great  design  and  profession  !  We 
should  then  set  up  the  Kingdom  of  God  among  men,  and  be  dili- 
gent and  active  in  promoting  the  laws  of  that  kingdom.  We 
should  then  believe,  like  Jesus  Christ  and  his  apostles,  that  there 
is  but  one  God,  the  Father  Almighty.  There  is  no  one  good, 
so  commonly  called,  but  one,  that  is  God ;  or  only  the  one  God.* 
Nullus  est  bonus  nisi  unus  Deus.  Castalio.  And  Cant.  MS. 
Clem.  Alex,  adds,  My  Father  who  is  in  Heaven.  This  is  life 
eternal,  to  acknowledge  thee,  O  Father,  to  be  the  only  true  God.f 
It  is  one  God  who  will  justify .%  We  know  that  there  is  none 
other  God  but  one.  For  to  us  there  is  one  GOD  the  Father.  § 
There  is  one  GOD  and  Father  of  all,  who  is  over  all,  and  through 
all,  and  in  you  all.||  And  we  should  confess  one  Mediator, — 
the  man  Christ  Jesus. ^[  We  should  be  consistent,  and  not  throw 
off  those  principles  upon  which  Christianity  was  founded,  and 
alone  could  be  first  built.  We  should  invite  men  into  our  religion, 
by  representing  to  them  the  perfection  of  that  primary  law  of 
God,  reason  or  natural  religion  ;  by  declaring  the  plainness  and 
clearness  of  it  to  all  attentive  and  well-disposed  minds  ;  and  then 
shew  them  how  worthy  it  was  of  the  Supreme  Governor  to  give 
such  creatures  as  he  has  made  us  the  gospel ;  that  by  the  religion 
of  favour,  he  has,  with  glory  to  himself,  displayed  his  paternal 


*  Mark,  ch.  x.  v.  18.          f  John,  ch.  xvii.  throughout. 
%  Romans,  ch.  iii.  v.  30.      §  i  Cor.  ch.  viii.  v.  4-6. 
II  Eph.  ch.    v.  v.  6.  fa  Tim.  ch.  ii.  v.  5. 


258  THE  LIFE  OF 


regard  for  us,  by  doing  much  more  than  what  is  strictly  necessary 
for  our  eternal  good.     God,  on  a  principle  of  love,  sends  his  Christ, 
to  advise  us  and  awaken  us  to  a  sense  of  our  danger  in  passing 
through  this  world,  in  case,  which  he  saw  would  be  the  thing, 
we  should  not  constantly  attend  to  the  light  we  might  strike  out, 
ourselves  with  some  trouble.     He  calls  us  in  an  extraordinary 
manner  to  forsake  vice  and  idolatry,  and  practise  the  whole  system 
of  morality.     We  might  expect,  that  a  good  God,  would  once  at 
least,  interpose  by  such  an  extraordinary  method  as  revelation, 
to  turn  and  incline  his  reasonable  creatures,  to  the  study  and 
practice  of  the  religion  of  nature.     This  was  acting  like  the  Father 
of  the  universe,  considering  the  negligence  and  corruption  of  the 
bulk  of  mankind.     The  reason  he  gave  us,  the  law  of  nature,  was 
giving  us  all  that  was  absolutely  necessary.     The  gospel  was  an 
addition  of  what  is  excellently  useful.     What,  my  beloved,  might 
a  rational  divine  say,  can  be  more  paternal,  and  worthy  of  the 
Almighty  Creator,  than  to  reveal  plainly  the  motive  of  a  judg- 
ment to  come,  in  order  to  secure  all  obedience  to  the  religion  of 
nature  ?     Reason  may,  to  be  sure,  be  sufficient  to  shew  men  their 
duty  and  to  encourage  their  performance  of  it  with  the  assurance 
of  obtaining  a  reward,  if  they  would  duly  attend  to  its  dictates, 
and  suffer  them  to  have  their  due  effect  upon  them  :  it  may  guide 
mankind  to  virtue,  and  happiness  consequent  to  it,  as  God  must 
be  a  rewarder  of  all  those  who  diligently  seek  him,  and  was 
enough  to  bring  them  to  the  knowledge,  and  engage  them  in  the 
practice  of  true  religion  and  righteousness,  if  they  had  not  shut 
their  eyes  to  its  light,  and  wilfully  rejected  the  rule  written  in 
their  hearts.     But  as  this  was  what  mankind  really  did,  and  now 
do ;  as  errors  and  impieties,  owing  to  an  undue  use  or  neglect 
of  reason,  became  universal ;  just  as  the  case  of  Christians  is, 
by  disregarding  the  New  Testament ;  and  reason,  through  men's 
faults,  was  rendered   ineffectual,  though   still   sufficient,  which 
justifies  both  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  in  leaving  man  for 
so  many  ages  to  his  natural  will,  and  so  great  a  part  of  the  globe 
to  this  day  with  no  other  light  than  the  law  of  nature ;  and  reason, 
I  say,  was  rendered  ineffectual,  though  still  sufficient  to  teach  men 
to  worship  God  with  pious  hearts  and  sincere  affections,  and  to 
do  his  will  by  the  practice  of  moral  duties  ;  to  expect  his  favour 
for  their  good  deeds,  and  his  condemnation  of  their  evil  works  ; 
then  was  revelation  a  more  powerful  means  of  promoting  true 
religion   and   godliness.     The  gospel   is  a  more  effectual  light. 
It  is  a  clearer  and  more  powerful  guide  ;  a  brighter  motive  and 
stronger  obligation  to  universal  obedience  than  reason  can  with 
certainty   propose.     And   therefore,    though   there   was   not  a 
necessity  for  God  to  give  new  rule  in  vindication  of  his  providence, 
and   in    order    to    render    men   accountable   to   him   for   their 
actions  ;   yet  the  divine  goodness  was  pleased  to  enforce  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  »59 

principles  of  reason  and  morality  more  powerfully  by  an  express 
sanction  of  future  rewards  and  punishments,  and  by  the  gospel 
restore  religious  worship  to  the  original  uncorrupted  rational 
service  of  the  Deity.  This  displays  his  paternal  regard  to  his 
children,  with  glory  to  himself.  Love  was  the  moving  principle 
of  his  sending  Christ  into  the  world,  to  reform  the  corruptions  of 
reason  to  restore  it  to  its  purity,  and  most  effectually  to  promote 
the  practice  of  the  rules  of  it.  The  gospel  revelation  considered  in 
this  manner  appears  to  be  the  pure  effect  of  the  divine  goodness. 
It  is  a  conduct  accompanied  with  the  greatest  propriety  and 
glory. 

If  this  representation  of  Christianity  was  as  much  the  doctrine 
of  the  church  as  it  is  of  the  Ivonites  I  have  mentioned,  we  might 
then,  with  hopes  of  success,  call  upon  the  rational  infidels  to  come 
in.  They  could  hardly  refuse  the  invitation,  when  we  told 
them,  our  religion  was  the  eternal  law  of  reason  and  of  God 
restored,  with  a  few  excellently  useful  additions  :  that  the  gospel 
makes  the  very  religion  of  nature,  a  main  part  of  what  it  requires, 
and  submits  all  that  it  reveals  to  the  test  of  the  law  of  reason  : 
that  the  splendor  of  God's  original  light,  the  light  of  nature, 
and  the  revelation  of  Jesus,  are  the  same  ;  both  made  to  deliver 
mankind  from  evils  and  madness  of  superstition,  and  make  their 
religion  worthy  of  God,  and  worthy  of  men  ;  to  enable  them  by  the 
voice  of  reason  in  conjunction  with  the  words  of  the  gospel,  to 
worship  One  God  the  Maker,  the  Governor,  the  Judge  of  the 
world  ;  and  to  practise  all  that  is  good  and  praise-worthy  :  that 
we  may  be  blessed  as  we  turn  from  iniquity  to  virtue  ;  and  by 
entering  cordially  into  the  spirit  of  the  meritorious  example  or 
exemplary  merits  of  Christ,  be  determined  to  be  dead  to  sin,  and  alive 
to  righteousness  :  in  short,  my  brethren,  in  the  suffering  and  death 
of  Jesus,  his  patient,  pious,  and  meek,  his  benevolent  and  com- 
passionate behaviour,  under  the  most  shocking  insult,  indignity, 
and  torture,  we  have  what  we  could  not  learn  from  the  religion 
of  nature,  a  deportment  that  well  deserves  both  our  admiration 
and  imitation.  We  learn  from  the  perfect  example  of  Jesus,  recom- 
mended in  his  gospel,  to  bear  patiently  ill  usage,  and  to  desire  the 
welfare  of  our  most  unreasonable  and  malicious  enemies.  This  is 
improving  by  religion  to  the  best  purpose  ;  and  as  we  resemble 
the  Son  of  God,  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  in  patience,  piety,  and  bene- 
volence, we  become  the  approved  children  of  the  Most  High,  who 
is  kind  and  good  to  the  unthankful  and  to  the  evil.  In  this 
view  of  the  gospel,  all  is  fine,  reasonable,  and  heavenly.  The 
gentile  can  have  nothing  to  object.  We  have  the  religion  of 
nature  in  its  original  perfection,  in  the  doctrine  of  the  New 
Testament,  enforced  by  pains  and  pleasures  everlasting ;  and  we 
learn  from  the  death  of  the  Mediator,  not  only  an  unprecedented 
patience,  in  bearing  our  sins  in  his  own  body  on  the  tree  :  but 


260  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  divine  compassion  and  piety  with  which  he  bore  them.  We 
have  in  this  the  noblest  example  to  follow,  whenever  called  to 
suffer  for  well-doing  or  for  righteousness-sake  ;  and  by  the  imi- 
tation, we  manifest  such  a  command  of  temper  and  spirit,  as 
can  only  be  the  result  of  the  greatest  piety  and  virtue.  This 
added  to  keeping  the  commandments  must  render  men  the  blessed 
of  the  Father,  and  entitle  them  to  the  kingdom  prepared  for  the 
wise,  the  honest,  and  the  excellent. 

But  alas,  !  instead  of  giving  such  an  account  of  Christianity,  the 
cry  of  the  doctors  is,  for  the  most  part,  Discard  reason,  and  pros- 
trate your  understanding  before  the  adorable  mysteries.  Instead 
of  a  Supreme  Independent  First  Cause  of  all  things  to  believe  in 
and  worship,  they  give  Three  true  Gods  in  number,  Three  infinite 
independent  Beings,  to  be  called  One,  as  agreeing  in  one  common 
abstract  essence,  or  species  ;  as  all  mankind  are  one,  in  one 
common  rational  nature,  or  abstract  idea  of  humanity.  Amazing 
account !  A  triune  no  infidel  or  gentile  of  sense  will  ever  worship. 

Instead  of  fixing  salvation  or  moral  rectitude,  and  our  pre- 
ferring the  will  of  God,  as  delineated  in  the  words  of  the  gospel, 
before  all  other  considerations,  we  are  told  of  an  innocent,  meri- 
torious, propitiating  blood,  spilt  by  wicked  hands,  and  so  made 
an  acceptable  sacrifice,  to  a  Being  who  is  of  purer  eyes  than  to 
behold  iniquity.  This,  we  are  assured,  satisfies  all  the  demands 
of  the  law.  Here  is  infinite  satisfaction,  and  most  certainly,  I 
add,  a  cool  indifference  as  to  personal  rectitude.  When  such  a 
faith  or  credulity  becomes  the  principal  pillar  of  trust  and 
dependance,  then  mere  reliance  on  such  satisfaction  to  divine 
justice,  may  be  a  stupefying  opiate,  and  make  many  remiss  in  the 
labours  of  a  penitential  piety,  and  that  exact  rectitude  of  mind 
and  life,  which  even  reason  requires,  to  render  us  acceptable  to 
the  Deity.  Many  an  appetite  and  passion  are  indulged  under  this 
subterfuge  ;  and  with  little  fervency  or  zeal  for  good  works,  men 
expect  to  partake  of  the  heavenly  joys,  by  trusting  to  the  merits  of 
their  Saviour,  in  their  last  will  and  testament.  Deplorable  case  ! 
Alas  !  how  has  Christianity  suffered  by  its  doctors  1  The  infidel 
laughs  at  it  as  thus  preached.  It  becomes  a  by-word,  and  a 
hissing  to  them  that  pass  by. 

As  to  the  library  of  my  friends,  the  Ivonites,  it  was  far  from 
being  a  grand  one,  but  I  saw  many  curious  books  in  it  which  had 
not  come  in  my  way  before.  From  them  I  made  several  ex- 
tracts, and  to  gratify  my  reader's  curiosity  a  little,  I  will  here 
favour  him  with  one  of  them. 

The  first  book  I  chanced  to  open  in  this  library,  was  the  second 
volume  of  Severin  Bini's*  edition  of  the  Councils  printed  at 

*  Severin  Bini,  or  Binius,  as  he  is  commonly  called,  bora  in  1543,  was  a  doctor  of  divinity 
at  Cologne,  in  the  circle  of  the  Lower  Rhine  in  Germany,  and  canon  of  that  archiepiscopal 
cathedral.  He  published  in  that  city,  in  the  year  1606,  an  elegant  edition  of  all  the  Councils 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  261 


Paris,  in  1630  ;  and  over-against  a  very  remarkable  passage  from 
Cyril,  p.  548,  I  found  several  written  leaves,  bound  up  in  the 
volume,  and  these  leaves  referred  to  by  an  asterisk.  The  passage 
I  call  remarkable,  is  part  of  a  homily  pronounced  by  the  Alex- 

in  four  very  large  volumes,  folio,  and  by  this  work,  made  the  editions  or  collections  of  Uerlin, 
Peter  Crabb,  and  Lawrence  Surius,  of  no  value,  but  the  second  edition  published  by  James 
Binius  in  the  year  1618,  in  nine  volumes  smaller  folio,  is  far  preferable  to  the  first,  and  the 
Paris  edition  printed  in  1638,  in  ten  large  volumes,  folio,  is  further  enlarged,  more  correct, 
and  of  consequence  still  better  than  the  second  edition  of  1618.  This  is  not  however  the  best 
edition  to  buy,  if  you  love  to  read  that  theological  stuff  called  Councils.  The  Louvre  edition 
of  1644,  in  thirty-seven  volumes,  folio,  is  what  you  should  purchase ;  or,  that  of  1672,  printed 
at  Paris,  by  the  Jesuits  Labbe  and  Cossart,  in  eighteen  large  volumes  in  folio.  I  prefer  this 
last,  on  account  of  the  additions,  correctness,  and  beauty  of  the  impression.  Fere  Hardouin 
likewise  printed  a  later  edition  of  the  Councils,  with  explications  and  free  remarks,  an  extra- 
ordinary and  curious  work  I  have  been  told ;  but  I  could  not  even  see  it  in  France,  as  the 
parliament  of  Paris  had  ordered  the  work  to  be  suppressed,  on  account  of  the  remarks. 
Binius  died  in  1620,  set.  77. 

James  Merlin,  the  first  editor  of  the  Councils,  was  a  doctor  of  divinity,  and  chanoine  of 
Notre-dame  de  Paris.  Besides  the  Councils,  in  two  large  volumes  folio ;  he  published  the 
works  of  Durand  de  St.  Pourcain,  in  1515  ;  the  works  of  Richard  de  St.  Victor,  in  1518  ;  and 
the  works  of  Peter  de  Blois,  in  1519.  His  Defence  of  Origen,  in  4to,  a  good  thing ;  and  Six 
Homilies  on  Gabriel's  being  sent  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  in  8vo  ;  which  homilies  are  not  worth  half 
a  farthing,  are  all  that  may  be  considered  his.  Merlin,  born  in  1472,  died  in  1541,  aet.  69. 

Peter  Crabb,  the  second  editor  of  the  councils,  born  in  1470,  was  a  Franciscan  friar,  He 
published  two  volumes  of  the  Councils,  in  folio,  at  Cologne,  in  1538  ;  and  a  third  volume  in 
1550. — He  died  in  1553,  aet.  83. 

Lawrence  Surius,  the  third  editor  of  the  Councils,  born  in  1522  ;  a  monk  of  the  Chartreux, 
published  his  edition  of  them,  in  four  large  volumes  in  folio,  in  1560  ;  and  a  few  years  after 
printed  his  Lives  of  the  Saints,  in  six  volumes.  He  wrote  likewise  a  short  History  of  his  own 
Time :  and  An  Apology  for  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  He  was  the  most  outrageous, 
abusive  bigot  that  ever  wrote  against  the  Protestants.  The  great  men  of  his  own  church 
despised  him,  and  Cardinal  Perron,  in  particular,  calls  him  bete  and  I'ignorant.  He  died  in 
1578,  aet.  56. 

Philip  Labbe,  the  Jesuit,  born  in  1607  ;  the  fifth  editor,  and  next  after  Binius  ;  lived  only 
to  publish  1 1  volumes  of  the  Councils,  the  eleventh  came  put  the  year  he  died ;  the  other 
seven  were  done  by  Cossart.  Labb6  was  a  man  of  learning,  and  besides  his  collection  of 
Councils,  wrote  several  other  pieces.  The  best  of  them  are  Bibliotheca  Bibliothecarum ;  Con- 
cordia  Cronologica ;  Bellarmini  Phihlogica ;  and  the  Life  of  Galen.  He  died  in  1667,  aet.  60. 

Gabriel  Cossart,  the  continuator,  who  published  the  other  seven  volumes  in  1672,  died  at 
Paris,  the  i8th  of  December,  1674,  ®t.  59. 

Richard  de  St.Victor,  whose  works  were  published  by  Merlin,  at  Paris,  in  1 5 1 8,  was  a  Scotch- 
man, and  prior  of  the  abbey  of  St.  Victor  in  Paris.  He  was  the  author  of  Three  Critical  and 
Historical  Dissertations  on  the  Tabernacle ;  Two  on  the  Temple ;  Three  on  the  Harmony  of  the 
Chronology  of  the  Kings  of  Judea  and  Israel ;  Commentaries  on  the  Psalms,  Canticles,  the  Epistles 
of  St.  Paul,  and  the  Revelation  :  as  also  of  some  Treatises  hi  Divinity  ;  and  several  Disquisitions 
relating  to  Spiritual  Life.  There  have  been  four  editions  of  these  pieces,  and  the  best  of  them 
is  that  printed  at  Rouen  in  1650,  in  two  volumes,  by  Father  John  de  Toulouse,  who  wrote 
the  life  of  Father  Richard,  and  added  it  to  his  edition.  The  three  other  editions  are  those  of 
Paris,  in  1518  ;  of  Venice,  in  1592,  and  of  Cologne,  in  1621.  Richard  de  Victor  has  been 
highly  commended  by  several  celebrated  writers,  particularly  by  Henry  de  Grand,  Trithe- 
mius,  Bellarmine,  and  Sixte  de  Sienne.  There  are  many  curious  and  fine  things  in  his  writ- 
ings, it  must  be  allowed  ;  but  hi  general,  he  is  too  subtil,  too  diffuse,  and  too  full  of  digressions. 
His  commentaries,  for  the  most  part,  are  weak,  and  evince  that  he  did  not  understand  St.  Paul. 
He  died  loth  March,  1173,  aet.  91  ;  and,  for  the  twelfth  century,  was  an  extraordinary  man. 

But  who  was  St.  Victor,  to  whom  the  abbey  of  Chanoines  Reguliers  in  Paris,  and  the  greater 
abbaye  of  Chanoines  in  Marseilles,  are  dedicated  ?  He  was  a  Frenchman,  who  fought  under 
the  Emperors  Dioclesian  and  Maximilian  with  great  applause,  in  the  most  honourable  post, 
but  in  the  year  302,  suffered  martyrdom  for  refusing  to  sacrifice  to  the  idols.  He  was  executed 
on  the  spot  where  the  abbey  of  St.  Victor  in  Marseilles  now  stands,  and  there  they  have  his 
reliques, '  a  la  reserve  du  pie,'  that  is,  except  his  foot,  which  lies  in  the  Abbaye  St.  Victor  de 
Pans.  William  Grimaud,  abbot  of  St.  Victor  de  Marseille,  on  his  being  made  Pope,  under 
the  title  of  Urban  V.  in  1362,  took  the  foot  of  St.  Victor  from  his  abbey,  when  he  left  it,  and 
made  a  present  of  it  to  John,  Duke  of  Berry,  one  of  the  sons  of  John  I,  King  of  France,  who 
was  taken  prisoner  by  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  in  the  battle  of  Poitiers,  Sept.  19,  1356  ;  and 
this  duke  of  Berry  gave  the  inestimable  foot  to  the  monks  of  St.  Victor  in  Paris.  There 
it  remains  to  this  day ;  and  though  so  small  a  part|of  the  blessed  Victor,  sheds  immense  benefits 
on  the  pious  Catholics  who  adore  it.  Happy  Catholics  ! 


262  THE  LIFE  OF 


andrian  Patriarch  before  the  council  of  Ephesus  on  St.  John's  day, 
in  a  church  dedicated  to  his  name.     In  rehearsing  his  discourse 

As  to  Peter  de  Blois,  he  was  archdeacon  of  Bath,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  second,  and  died 
in  London,  in  the  year  1200,  set.  ^^.  His  works  comprise  one  hundred  and  eighty-three 
letters  on  various  subjects,  twenty  sermons,  and  seventeen  tracts  of  several  kinds ;  they  were 
first  printed  at  Mayence  in  1500,  then  by  Merlin  at  Paris,  in  1519,  as  before  mentioned  ;  and 
afterwards,  John  Busee  the  Jesuit,  gave  an  edition  of  them  in  1600,  which  is  far  preferable 
to  that  edited  by  Merlin.  But  the  most  valuable  edition  is  that  of  Peter  de  Goussainville, 
printed  at  Paris,  in  1667,  in  folio  ;  to  this  edition  is  prefixed  the  life  of  Peter  de  Blois,  and  very 
learned  remarks  on  his  writings,  and  the  subjects  he  wrote  on,  are  added,  by  Goussainville. 
De  Blois'  works  contain  many  excellent  things,  and  his  life  is  a  curious  piece.  Some  of  his 
notions  relating  to  the  scriptures  are  very  good,  and  he  writes  well  against  vice.  He  is  a 
good  author  for  the  age  he  lived  in.  His  letters  are  well  worth  reading,  especially  such  of 
them  as  relate  to  his  own  time.  King  Henry  II.  ordered  him  to  make  a  collection  of  them 
for  his  royal  use. 

Durand  de  St.  Pourgain,  bishop  of  Meaux,  in  1326,  died  the  i$ih  of  September,  1333,  in 
the  8gth  year  of  his  age.  His  works  are,  Liber  de  Origine  jurisdictionum,  a  learned  piece ; 
and  Commentaries  on  the  Four  Books  of  Sentences.  The  book  called  the  Sentences,  was  written 
by  the  famous  Peter  Lombard,  bishop  of  Paris,  who  died  in  the  year  1164,  a?t.  82.  In  the 
Sentences,  one  of  the  propositions  argued  on  is  this  :  Christus  secundum  quod  est  homo,  non 
est  aliquod.  Some  call  these  Sentences  excellent,  which  is  what  I  cannot  think  them ;  but 
in  Durand's  Commentary  on  them,  there  are  several  excellent  things. 

As  to  the  Jesuit,  Jean  Busee,  who  published  the  third  edition  of  the  works  of  Peter  de  Blois  ; 
he  was  the  author  of  many  books  not  worth  mentioning,  and  died  at  Mayence,  soth  of  May 
1611,  aged  64. 

The  learned  Goussainville  who  printed  the  last  edition  of  De  Blois,  with  notes,  died  in  the 
year  1683,  extremely  poor  and  miserable.  He  likewise  published  the  works  of  Pope  Gregory 
with  many  valuable  remarks  and  notes.  There  are  four  editions  of  this  pope's  works  ;  that 
by  Tussiniani,  bishop  of  Venice,  by  order  of  Pope  Sixtus  the  Vth  ;  the  Paris  edition  of  1640; 
Goussainville's  edition ;  and  the  Benedictine  edition ;  but  Goussainville's  is,  in  my  opinion, 
the  most  valuable. 

The  Sermons  in  the  first  and  second  editions  of  Peter  de  Blois'  works  are  not  his,  but  by 
Peter  Comestor.  De  Blois'  sermons  are  only  to  be  found  in  Goussainville's  edition  of  this 
archdeacon's  works.  Peter  Comestor  was  a  regular  canon  of  St.  Victor's  in  Paris,  and  died 
in  the  year  1198,  aet.  65.  Besides  the  sermons  published  by  mistake  as  the  work  of  De  Blois, 
he  wrote  a  large  Scholastic  //t's<ory,'which  comprehends  the  sacred  history  from  Genesis  to  the 
end  of  the  Acts.  This  is  reckoned  a  good  thing,  and  has  been  abridged  by  one  Hunter,  an 
Englishman. 

But  as  to  Councils,  we  have  the  following  account  of  the  eighteen  general  ones  in  the  Vati- 
can library,  and  are  told,  that  the  several  inscriptions  affixed  to  them  were  made  by  pope 
Sixtus  V. ;  the  famous  Felix  Peretti,  who  was  born  the  i3th  of  December,  1521,  and  died  the 
27th  of  August,  1590,  in  the  6gth  year  of  his  age. 

The  first  Council,  which  is  that  of  Nice  in  325.  St.  Sylvester  being  pope,  and  Constantine 
the  great  emperor,  Jesus  Christ  the  Son  of  God  is  declared  cpnsubstantial  with  his  Father  ; 
the  impiety  of  Arius  is  condemned  ;  and  the  emperor,  in  obedience  to  a  decree  of  the  council , 
ordered  all  the  books  of  the  Arians  to  be  burnt. 

The  second  Council,  which  is  that  of  Constantinople  in  381.  The  holy  Damascus  being  pope 
and  Theodosius  the  elder  emperor,  the  divinity  of  the  Holy  Ghost  is  defended  against  the 
impious  Macedonius,  and  his  false  doctrine  is  anathematized. 

The  third  Council,  which  is  that  of  Ephesus  in  431,  St.  Celestin  being  pope,  and  Theodosius 
the  younger  emperor ;  Nestorius,  who  divided  Jesus  Christ  into  two  persons,  is  condemned, 
and  the  Holy  Virgin  is  decreed  to  be  the  mother  of  God. 

The  fourth  Council,  which  is  that  of  Chalcedonia  in  451.  St.  Leo  being  pope,  and  Marcian 
emperor,  the  unhappy  Eutychius  is  anathematized  for  maintaining  that  Jesus  Christ  had 
but  one  nature. 

The  fifth  Council,  which  is  the  second  of  Constantinople  in  553.  Vigilius  being  pope,  and 
Justinian  emperor,  the  debates  relating  to  the  doctrine  of  Theodore,  bishop  of  Mopsueste  ; 
Ibas,  bishop  of  Edessa,  and  Theodoret,  bishop  of  Cyr,  are  suppressed,  and  the  errors  of  Origen 
are  separated  from  the  holy  doctrine. 

The  sixth  Council,  which  is  the  third  of  Constantinople  in  680.  St.  Agatho  being  pope, 
and  Constantine  Pagonatus  emperor,  the  heretics  called  Monothelites,  who  admitted  but 
one  will  in  Jesus  Christ,  are  condemned. 

The  seventh  Council,  which  is  the  second  of  Nice  in  784.  Adrian  being  pope  and  Con- 
stantine, the  son  of  Irene,  being  emperor,  the  impiety  of  the  image-breakers  is  condemned, 
and  the  worship  of  the  holy  images  is  established  in  the  church. 

The  eighth  Council,  which  is  the  fourth  of  Constantinople  in  689.  Adrian  II.  being  pope, 
and  Basil  emperor.  Ignatius,  patriarch  of  Constantinople,  is  re-established  in  his  see,  and 
Photius,  the  usurper,  is  with  ignominy  driven  away. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  263 

to  the  Holy  Fathers,  the  Saint  cites  Heb.  ch.  i.  v.  6,  and  then 
addresses  himself  to  the  apostle. 

"QTO.V  Se  irdXtv  elffaydyrj  TQV  irpoiroroKOv  els  rrjv  olKov^evr)if,  \eyei,  Kttl 
irpoffKVvyffdTWo-av  aura?  vdvTfs  "AvyeXoi,  0eou.  "  When  he  bringeth  in 
the  first-begotten  into  the  world,  he  saith,  Let  all  the  angels  of 
God  worship  him."  Muarciyc&yeo-op  'EvavyeXicrra,  ctVe  TTCU  vvv,  u»  Ma/cdpt€ 

The  ninth  Council,  which  is  the  first  of  Lateran  in  1122. 

The  tenth  Council,  which  is  the  second  of  Lateran  in  1 169.  The  canons  of  these  two  councils 
are  wanting,  and  they  have  no  inscription  in  the  Vatican. 

The  eleventh  Council,  which  is  the  third  of  Lateran  iu  1179.  Alexander  III.  being  pope 
and  Frederick  I.  emperor ;  the  errors  of  the  Vaudois  are  condemned. 

The  twelfth  Council,  which  is  the  fourth  of  Lateran  in  1215.  Innocent  III.  being  pope, 
and  Frederick  II.  emperor ;  the  false  opinions  of  the  abbot  Joachim  are  condemned  ;  the  holy 
war,  for  the  recovery  of  Jerusalem,  is  resolved,  and  the  Croisades  are  appointed  among  Chris- 
tians. 

The  thirteenth  Council,  which  is  the  first  of  Lyons  in  1245.  Under  the  pontificate  of  Inno- 
cent iv.,  the  emperor  Frederick  is  declared  an  enemy  to  the  church,  and  deprived  of  the  em- 
pire ;  they  deliberate  on  the  recovery  of  the  Holy  Land ;  St.  Lewis,  King  of  France,  is  declared 
chief  of  that  expedition.  Th«  cardinals  are  honoured  with  red  hats. 

The  fourteenth  Council,  which  is  ttic  sorond  of  Lyons  in  1274.  Gregory  X.,  being  sover- 
eign pontiff,  the  Greeks  are  reunited  to  the  ctiurch  nf  Rome ;  St.  Bonaventure  does  signal 
service  to  the  church  in  this  council ;  friar  Jerome  brings  the  King  of  the  Tartars  to  the  council 
and  that  prince  receives,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  the  blessed  water  of  baptism. 

The  fifteenth  Council,  which  is  that  of  Vienne  in  1311.  Under  the  pontificate  of  Clement  V., 
the  Decretals,  called  the  Clementines  from  the  name  of  this  pope,  are  received  and  pubhsncd  j 
the  procession  of  the  holy  sacrament  is  instituted  throughout  Christendom ;  and  professors 
of  the  oriental  languages  are  established  hi  the  four  most  famous  universities  in  Europe,  for 
the  propagation  of  the  Christian  faith  in  the  Levant. 

The  sixteenth  Council,  which  is  that  of  Florence  in  1439.  The  Greeks,  the  Armenians, 
and  the  Ethiopians,  are  reunited  to  the  catholic  church,  under  the  pontificate  of  Eugene  IV. 

The  seventeenth  Council,  which  is  the  fifth  of  Lateran,  began  in  the  year  1517.  They 
declared  war  against  the  Turks,  who  had  seized  the  island  of  Cyprus,  and  possessed  them- 
selves of  Egypt,  on  the  death  of  the  sultan  :  the  emperor  Maximilian,  and  Francis  I.,  king  of 
France,  are  appointed  generals  of  this  war,  under  the  popes  Julius  II.  and  Leo  X. 

The  eighteenth  Council,  which  is  that  of  Trent,  the  last  of  the  oecumenical  or  general  coun- 
cils ;  held  from  the  year  1545  to  the  year  1563.  Paul  III.  Julius  III.  and  Pius  V.  reigning 
at  Rome,  the  Lutherans  and  other  heretics  are  condemned,  and  the  ancient  discipline  of  the 
church  is  re-established  in  her  exact  and  regular  practice. 

These,  reader,  are  the  eighteen  famous  General  Councils  ;  and  if  you  will  turn  to  the  third 
volume  of  a  work,  called  Notes  relating  to  Men,  and  Things,  and  Books,  you  will  find  my  obser- 
vations on  them ;  my  remarks  on  the  popes,  the  princes,  and  the  fathers,  assembled ;  their 
unchristian  immoralities,  and  sad  acts  against  the  laws  of  Christ,  in  order  to  establish  for 
ever,  that  very  senseless,  and  very  wicked  religion,  called  Popery ;  which  is,  a  composition 
of  sin  and  error  so  base  and  abominable,  that  we  might  expect  such  a  thing  from  the  devil ; 
but  it  is  impossible  it  could  come  from  heavenly-inspired  fathers.  In  that  book  you  will  find 
many  thoughts  on  the  religion  delivered  to  the  world  by  those  Councils,  and  by  them  estab- 
lished, though  it  is  in  reality  a  disgrace  to  Christianity  ;  a  dishonour  to  the  religion  of  nature  ; 
and  a  faction  against  the  common  rights  of  mankind ;  which  ought  to  be  the  just  object  of 
universal  contempt  and  abhorrence  ;  whether  we  consider  it  as  a  system  of  idolatry,  impiety, 
and  cruelty ;  or,  as  a  political  scheme,  to  destroy  the  liberties,  and  engross  the  properties  of 
mankind.  Of  these  things,  particularly  and  largely,  in  the  piece  referred  to. 

Here  I  have  only  further  to  observe,  that  in  the  large  collections  of  the  Councils,  it  is  not 
only  the  eighteen  oecumenical  the  collectors  have  gathered,  but  so  much  of  all  the  councils  as 
they  could  find,  their  acts,  letters,  formularies  of  faith,  and  canons,  from  the  first  council  at 
Jerusalem,  in  the  year  49,  to  the  last  council  in  the  eighteenth  century  ;  which  was  convoked 
by  the  archbishop  of  Ambrun  against  Jean  de  Soanem,  bishop  of  Senez.  These  amount  to 
above  1,600  councils.  Note,  reader,  the  condemnation  and  banishment  of  old  John  de 
Soanem,  the  most  learned  and  excellent  prelate  in  France,  of  his  time,  in  the  eightieth  year 
of  his  age,  by  Firebrand  Tartuff,  archbishop  of  Ambrun,  and  his  council,  Sept.  21,  1727  ;  was 
on  account  of  the  bishop's  admirable  pastoral  instruction  against  the  execrable  constitution 
unigenitus,  and  the  antichristian  formulary  of  pope  Alexander  VII.,  and  because  he  recom- 
mended the  reading  of  Pere  Quesnel's  very  pious  and  fine  Reflections  Morales. 

Pasquier  Quesnel,  a  famous  Jansenist,  and  father  of  the  oratory,  was  born  hi  1636,  was  the 
author  of  many  books,  some  of  them  very  good.  He  was  severely  persecuted  for  many  years, 
and  died  at  last  in  prison,  if  I  mistake  not,  a  sufferer  for  religion. 


264  THE  LIFE  OF 


,  &c. — "  O  blessedjohn  the  Evangelist,  explain  this  mystery:" 
Who  is  the  first-begotten,  how  came  he  into  the  world  ?  Myster- 
ium  hoc  aperi,  effare  etiam  nunc,  qui  voces  habes  immortales. 
Resera  nobis  puteum  vitae.  Da,  ut  nunc  quoque  de  salutis 
fontibus  hauriamus. 

This  passage  of  Cyril  I  have  heard  several  learned  Roman 
Catholic  gentlemen  call  a  prayer,  and  affirm  it  was  a  proof  of  the 
Father's  invocation  of  saints,  in  the  beginning  of  the  fifth 
century  ;  for  St.  Cyril  succeeded  his  uncle  Theophilus  in  the 
see  of  Alexandria,  October  16,  412.  But  to  this  it  may  be 
answered, 

First,  That  Binius,  though  a  zealous  pleader  for  the  catholic 
cause,  as  the  monks  of  Rome  miscall  it,  was  of  another  opinion, 
for  he  takes  no  notice  of  this  passage  in  his  notes,  in  calce  part  3 , 
Condi.  Ephesiani,  torn.  ii.  p.  665,  &c.  and  most  certainly,  ne  would 
not  have  failed  to  urge  it,  if  he  had  considered  it  as  a  prayer,  and 
believed  it  did  prove  the  invocation  of  saints. 

Secondly,  neitHci  does  Bellarmine,  in  his  treatise  de  Sanctorum 
Beatitude,  Henricus  Vicus  de  Sanctorum  Invocatione,  Gabriel 
Vasquez  deAdoratione,  or  Gregorius  de  Valentia  de  Oratione,  make 
use  of  this  passage  of  Cyril,  though  they  do,  ex  professo,  and 
data  opera,  diligently  quote  all  the  councils  and  fathers  they  can, 
to  prove  the  invocation  of  saints. 

Thirdly,  As  rhetorical  apostrophes,  or  prosopopaeias,  are  usual 
in  all  authors,  sacred  or  civil,  this  may  be  one  in  Cyril,  and  it 
seems  very  plain  from  the  passage,  that  it  was  intended  for  no 
more.  It  appears  to  be  a  rhetorical  figure  and  not  a  prayer ;  such 
a  figure  as  the  Greek  fathers  were  wont  very  frequently  to  use  in 
their  orations  and  poems. 

Cyril  intending,  as  appears  by  the  sequel,  to  answer  his  own 
question  with  a  passage  in  St.  John's  gospel,  makes  a  long  rhetori- 
cal apostrophe  to  the  apostle,  as  if  he  were  there  present,  then 
adds,  Annon  dicentem  audimus,  'OVKOVV  <koi/o/A«/  x^yovros  ?  But  do 
we  not  hear  him  saying  ?  Or,  as  Binius  has  the  reading,  'OVKOVV 
&KOVOHCV  X^yovros.  Let  us  hear  what  St.  John  saith,  audiamus 
itaque  dicentem,  as  if  they  had  heard  John  giving  his  answer,  and 
then  concludes  with  the  first  verse  of  the  first  chapter  of  his 
gospel,  'Ei»  'apxrj  fy  6  Afyos,  &c.  In  the  beginning  was  the 
word,  &c. 

It  is  therefore  very  plain,  that  this  passage  of  Cyril  is  only  a 
part  of  his  homily  or  sermon,  and  that  in  a  rhetorical  manner, 
he  quotes  a  text  from  a  gospel  written  by  John  about  three 
hundred  and  thirty  years  before,  in  answer  to  his  own  question 
who  the  word  was  ?  For  Cyril  to  pray  to  John  to  tell  them  what 
he  had  told  them  long  before,  were  senseless  and  ridiculous  ;  but 
to  desire  the  apostle  to  do  it  in  a  rhetorical  apostrophe,  was 
allowable.  It  amounts  to  no  more  than  the  figurative  expression 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  265 


in  our  liturgy,  Hear  what  comfortable  words  our  Saviour  saith. 
Hear  what  St.  Paul  saith. 

But  if  Cyril  did  in  this  passage  truly  pray  to  St.  John,  that 
could  be  no  argument  for  popish  invocation  of  saints  ;  for  if  an 
hundred  fathers  in  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  had 
preached  up,  and  practised  invocation  of  saints,  yet  that  could 
not  make  it  lawful  and  right,  since  we  are  taught  by  the  scriptures 
to  direct  our  prayers  neither  to  saint  nor  angel,  but  to  God 
only,  and  in  the  name  and  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ  only.  We 
are  not  only  positively  ordered  by  the  apostles  to  make  all  our 
addresses  and  prayers  to  God  only,  and  by  the  mediation 
and  intercession  of  Jesus  Christ,  but  are  told,  that  God  is 
omniscient,  and  so  able  to  hear  all  our  prayers  :  all  sufficient 
and  therefore  able  to  supply  all  our  necessities  ;  and  that  his 
mercies  in  Jesus  Christ  are  infinite.  This  makes  our  way  sure  in 
this  particular. 

On  the  contrary,  the  papists  have  no  precept  to  pray  to  saints 
nor  any  promise  that  they  shall  be  heard  ;  nor  any  practice  of 
the  primitive  church  for  three  hundred  years  after  Christ,  to 
encourage  them  ;  and  therefore,  such  popish  invocation  is  a 
novel,  groundless,  and  impious  error. 

We  are  told  by  St.  Peter,  that  God  had  exalted  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  a  Prince  and  Saviour,  that  is,  an  intercessor.*  By 
St.  Paul,  that  Christ  is  able  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  come 
to  God  by  him,  seeing  he  ever  liveth  to  make  intercession  for 
them  ;  |  that  he  is  gone  to  heaven,  for  this  very  end,  to  appear 
in  the  presence  of  God  for  us  ;  J  that  there  is  no  other  mediator 
betwixt  God  and  men  but  the  man  Christ  Jesus, §  that  is,  whose 
prerogative  it  is  to  intercede  for  sinners  to  the  divine  Majesty  ; 
being  an  honour  and  dignity  God  hath  exalted  him  unto,  after  his 
sufferings,  and  as  a  reward  thereof  :  Thus  are  we  informed  by 
the  divine  oracles,  and  yet,  notwithstanding  this,  to  make  prayers 
and  supplications  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  and  a  thousand  other  saints, 
for  aid  or  help  ;  and  to  have  by  their  merit  and  intercession,  the 
gifts  and  graces  they  pray  for  conferred  upon  them  :  this  is  a 
doctrine  of  such  dangerous  consequence,  as  it  is  a  depriving  of 
Christ  Jesus  of  that  grand  dignity  and  prerogative  he  is  now  in 
heaven  exalted  to,  as  much  as  in  men  lies,  that  I  should  have 
wondered  how  it  ever  came  to  be  embraced  by  such  as  profess 
Christianity ;  had  not  the  spirit  of  God  foretold  |j  that  some  should 
depart  from  the  faith,  giving  heed  to  seducing  spirits,  that  is, 
seducing  men,  and  doctrines  of  devils,  that  is  to  say,  doctrines 
concerning  demons,  or  souls  of  famous  men  departed  this  life  ; 
which  the  heathens  called  demons  ;  and  to  whom  they  gave  the 
worship  of  prayer  or  invocation,  as  intercessors  or  inferior  divini- 

*  Acts,  ch.  v.  v.  31.         t  Hebrews,  ch.  vii.  v.  25.        J  Ib.  ch.  is.  v.  24.        §  i  Tim.  ch.  ii. 
v.  5.        11  Ib,  ch.  iv.  v.  4. 


266  THE  LIFE  OF 


ties.  This  prophecy  hinders  my  wondering  at  the  thing ;  but 
then  I  must  call  such  modern  invocation,  gentilism  Christianized, 
a  deplorable  corruption. 

Ponder  then,  ye  Catholics,  in  time,  and  think  not  to  excuse 
yourselves  by  arguing  from  the  command  Christians  have  here 
on  earth  to  require  each  others  prayers  to  God  for  them  :  for, 
we  have  no  command  to  supplicate  any  in  heaven  but  only  God.* 
We  have  no  reasonable  assurance  that  the  saints  in  heaven  do 
hear  our  prayers,  and  of  consequence  have  not  the  same  reasons 
to  request  the  prayers  to  God  for  us  that  we  have  to  request  the 
prayers  of  saints  on  earth  :  nor  is  this  all :  our  prayers  to  each 
other  in  this  life  are  only  Christian  requests  to  recommend  our 
conditions  to  God :  offices  only  of  kindness :  no  acts  of  religious 
worship. 

When  St.  Paul  was  on  earth,  had  any  one  on  bended  knees,  with 
hands  and  eyes  lifted  up  to  heaven,  in  time  of  public  prayer,  and 
amidst  the  solemn  prayers  to  God,  beseeched  him  for  aid  and 
help,  and  for  the  conference  of  gifts  and  graces,  he  would  have 
rent  his  clothes,  and  said,  Why  do  you  these  things  ?  and  can 
we  suppose,  that  now  in  heaven,  the  apostle  is  less  careful  to 
preserve  entire  God's  prerogative. 

Besides,  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  betwixt  St.  Paul's 
saying,  Brethren,  pray  for  us,  or  our  requesting  the  prayers  of 
the  faithful  here  on  earth  for  us,  and  praying  to  saints  in  heaven, 
as  practised  in  the  Roman  church.  Our's  are  only  wishes  and 
requests  ;  their's,  solemn  prayers  on  bended  knees,  made  in  the 
places  and  proper  seasons  of  divine  worship,  and  joined  with  the 
prayers  they  make  to  God.  They  use  the  same  postures  and 
expressions  of  devotions  they  use  to  God  himself.  They  pray 
to  them  for  help  and  aid,  and  make  them  joint-petitioners  with 
Christ ;  relying  on  their  merits  as  the  merits  of  Christ. 

In  sum,  in  the  tabernacle  of  this  world,  we  are  to  request  the 
prayers  of  every  good  Christian  for  us  ;  but  in  the  tabernacle 
of  heaven,  we  are  to  call  on  none  but  him  in  whom  we  believe.  As 
in  the  outward  court  of  the  Jewish  tabernacle,  every  priest  was  per- 
mitted to  officiate,to  receive  and  present  the  devotions  of  the  people 
to  the  divine  majesty  ;  but  in  the  holy  place,  within  the  veil,  none 
but  the  high- priest  was  to  do  any  office  or  service  :  even  so  in  the 
tabernacle  of  this  world,  every  Christian  being  a  priest  to  God, 
has  this  honour  conferred  upon  him  ;  but  in  the  holy  of  holies, 
in  heaven,  none  but  Christ,  our  high-priest,  is  to  officiate.  He 
only  is  there  to  appear  in  the  presence  of  God  for  us.  It  is  his 
prerogative  alone  to  receive  our  prayers,  and  present  them  to  the 
divine  majesty.  As  none  but  the  high- priest  was  to  offer  incense 
in  the  holy  of  holies,  so  none  in  heaven  but  Christ  our  high-priest 
is  to  offer  our  prayers  to  God  his  father.  He  alone  is  that  angel 

*  Matt.  ch.  vi.  v.  8. 


JOHN  BUN  OLE,  ESQ.  267 


to  whom  much  incense  was  given,  that  he  should  offer  it  with 
the  prayers  of  all  saints,  upon  the  golden  altar  that  was  before 
the  throne.*  Which  alludes  to  the  altar  that  was  before  the 
mercy  seat,  on  which  the  high-priest  only  was  to  offer  incense. 

But  the  catholic  may  say  perhaps,  that  as  on  earth,  men 
do  not  presently  run  to  kings  to  present  their  requests,  but  obtain 
his  favours  by  the  mediation  of  courtiers  and  favourites  ;  even 
so,  it  is  fitting  we  have  recourse  to  saints,  who  are  favourites  in 
heaven,  that  we  may  obtain  access  to  God,  and  have  our  suits 
accepted  of  him.  Thus  have  I  heard  some  learned  men  of  the 
church  of  Rome  argue.  They  should  consider,  however,  in  the 
first  place,  that  if  an  earthly  prince  had  declared  he  would  have 
no  solicitor  but  his  son,  and  that  all  favours  and  royal  graces 
should  come  to  his  subjects  through  his  hands,  and  by  means  of 
his  mediation  ;  such  subjects  could  deserve  no  favour,  if  they 
make  their  application  to  other  favourites,  contrary  to  their 
prince's  command.  In  the  next  place,  if  the  solicitor,  the  son, 
was  out  of  the  question,  and  no  such  one  had  been  declared  by 
the  king,  yet  as  we  petition  earthly  princes  by  such  as  enjoy  their 
presence,  because  they  cannot  give  audience  to  all  their  subjects, 
nor  do  they  know  the  worthy  ;  but  God  is  omnipresent,  his  ears 
always  open,  and  his  head  bowed  down  to  the  prayers  of  his  people ; 
is  no  respecter  of  persons,  but  gives  a  like  access  to  the  beggar 
as  to  the  prince,  and  promises  to  cast  out  none  that  make  their 
application  to  him  ;  it  follows  of  consequence,  that  we  ought  to 
address  ourselves  immediately  to  God,  and  ask  from  him.  If  an 
earthly  prince  should  thus  invite  his  subjects  to  petition  him  for 
the  supply  of  their  wants,  I  should  account  the  man  no  better 
than  a  fool  or  a  madman,  who  would  apply  himself  to  any  of  the 
king's  favourites. 

The  conclusion  is  ;  O  thou  that  nearest  prayer,  unto  thee  shall 
all  flesh  come,  f  Since  God,  who  is  infinite  in  mercy,  omnipresent, 
and  omnipotent  in  wisdom  and  action,  admits  every  man  to  the 
throne  of  grace,  bids  him  ask  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
promises,  whatever  we  ask  in  his  Son's  name,  he  will  do  it.  Since 
the  practice  of  praying  to  saints  is  injurious  to  Christ,  and  doth 
manifestly  rob  him  of  his  royal  prerogative,  which  is  to  be  the 
one,  and  only  mediator  betwixt  God  and  man  ;  for  in  this  office, 
he  hath  no  sharers  or  partners,  according  to  the  scripture  account : 
As  God  is  but  one,  and  there  is  no  other ;  so  the  mediator  (by 
the  appointment  of  God)  is  but  one,  and  there  is,  there  can  be 
no  other.  J  And  since,  exclusive  of  these  unalterable  things,  the 
Roman  doctors  cannot  be  certain,  that  saints  in  heaven  hear  the 

*  Revel,  ch.  viii.  y.  3.  t  Psalm  Ixv.  v.  2. 

$  Quid  tarn  proprium  Christi  quam  advocatum  apud  deum  pattern  adstare  populorumi 
Ambrose  in  Psal.  39.  Pro  quo  nullus  interpellat  sed  ipse  pro  omnibus,  hie  unus  verusque 
mediator  est.  Aug.  Cont.  Parmen.  lib.  ii.  c.  8. 


268  THE  LIFE  OF 


requests  of  suppliants  on  earth,  or  know  whether  our  prayers  are 
fit  to  be  accepted  of  God  ;  *  let  us  reject  that  unlawful  practice 
the  invocation  of  saints,  and  pray  for  pardon  and  grace,  as  the 
gospel  directs,  to  God  the  judge  of  all,  through  Jesus  Christ  the 
mediator  of  the  new  covenant.  This  do,  and  thou  shalt  live. 

N.B.  Who  was  the  author  of  these  good  remarks,  these  friars 
could  not  tell  me  :  as  they  were  in  the  book  when  they  bought 
it.  If  I  mistake  not,  they  are  an  abstract  from  a  letter  of  Bishop 
Barlow  to  Evelyn,  with  several  additions.  I  have  not  Bishop 
Barlow's  works  by  me  :  but  I  think  I  have  seen  something  to 
this  purpose,  written  by  this  prelate  about  one  hundred  years 
ago. 

"  Say  why  was  man  so  eminently  rais'd 

Amid  the  vast  creation  :  why  ordain'd 

Through  life  and  death  to  dart  his  piercing  eye, 

With  thoughts  beyond  the  limits  of  his  frame  ; 

But  that  th'  omnipotent  might  send  him  forth 

In  sight  of  mortal  and  immortal  powers, 

As  on  a  boundless  theatre  to  run 

The  great  career  of  justice  ;  to  exalt 

His  gen'rous  aim  to  all  diviner  deeds  ; 

To  shake  each  partial  purpose  from  his  breast ; 

And  thro'  the  mists  of  passion  and  of  sense, 

And  thro'  the  tossing  tide  of  chance  and  pain, 

To  hold  his  course  unfault'ring,  while  the  voice 

Of  truth  and  virtue,  up  the  steep  ascent 

Of  nature,  calls  him  to  his  high  reward, 

Th'  applauding  smile  of  heav'n  ?     Else  wherefore  burns 

In  mortal  bosoms  this  unquenched  hope, 

That  breathes  from  day  to  day  sublimer  things, 

And  mocks  possession  ?     Wherefore  darts  the  mind 

With  such  resistless  ardor  to  embrace 

Majestic  forms ;  impatient  to  be  free. 

Spurning  the  gross  controul  of  wilful  might ; 

Proud  of  the  strong  contention  of  her  toils  ; 

Proud  to  be  daring  ?  " 

The  eighth  of  April,  1729,  I  bade  the  Ivonites  adieu,  and  by 
their  directions,  walked  up  a  very  steep  and  stony  mountain, 
which  took  me  two  hours,  and  then  arrived  at  what  I  had  often 
seen  before  in  this  part  of  the  world,  a  great  lake,  the  water  of 

*  The  Roman  doctors  say,  the  saints  know  the  transactions  that  are  done  here  below,  by 
revelation  or  intuition.  To  this  I  answer,  if  it  is  by  revelation,  that  they  know  our  requests 
and  prayers  to  them,  then  it  must  be  either  from  God  or  from  angels  ;  of  which  there  is  not 
the  least  assurance  or  certainty  to  be  any  where  found  :  but  if  we  could  be  sure  of  it,  then, 
in  my  opinion,  we  ought  to  pray  to  God  or  angels  to  make  known  our  prayers  to  saints  ; 
which  would  be  strange  religion.  If  it  be  by  intuition,  as  the  greatest  part  of  the  doctors 
say,  and  that  the  saints  see  the  requests  in  the  divine  essence,  as  men  see  things  in  a  corporeal 
glass  :  then,  (exclusive  of  answering  that  the  scriptures  say  no  such  thing)  the  saints  must  see 
all  things  in  the  divine  essence,  or  only  such  things  as  God  is  pleased  to  permit  them  to  see  : 
if  all  things,  they  would  be  omniscient :  if  only  the  things  permitted  to  be  seen,  how  is  it  pos- 
sible for  us  to  know^whether  God  is  pleased  to  permit  them  to  see  therein  our  prayers,  or  to 
know  the  requests  we  make  to  them,  unless  he  had  told  us  so.  Let  it  be  revelation  or  intui- 
tion, it  is  sad  stuff. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  269 

which  was  black  as  ink  to  look  at  as  it  stood,  though  very  bright 
in  a  cup,  and  must  be  owing,  as  I  suppose,  to  its  descending  to  the 
abyss  :  by  the  side  of  this  water,  under  the  shade  of  oak-trees 
many  hundred  years  old,  we  rode  for  an  hour,  on  even  ground, 
and  then  came  to  a  descent  so  very  dangerous  and  dark,  through 
a  wood  on  the  mountain's  side,  that  we  could  hardly  creep  down 
it  on  our  feet,  nor  our  horses  keep  their  legs  as  we  led  them  to  the 
bottom.  This  declivity  was  more  than  a  mile,  and  ended  in  a 
narrow  lane  between  a  range  of  precipices  that  almost  met  at 
top.  This  pass  was  knee-deep  in  water,  from  a  spring  in  the 
bottom  of  the  mountain  we  had  come  down,  which  ran  through 
it,  and  so  very  stony,  that  it  took  us  three  hours  to  walk  the 
horses  to  the  end  of  it,  though  it  was  not  more  than  two  miles  : 
but  at  last  we  came  to  a  fine  plain,  over  which  we  rode  for  an 
hour  and  a  half,  and  arrived  at  a  wood,  which  seemed  very  large 
and  stood  between  two  very  high  and  unpassable  hills.  In  this 
forest  was  our  way,  and  the  road  so  dark,  and  obstructed  by  the 
branches  of  trees,  that  it  was  dismal  and  uneasy  to  go.  On 
however  we  went  for  a  long  time,  and  about  the  middle  of  it  came 
to  a  circular  opening  of  about  four  acres,  in  which  four  very  narrow 
roads  met ;  that  we  had  travelled,  another  before  us,  and  one  on 
each  hand.  The  way  straight  on  we  were  cautioned  by  my 
friends  not  to  go,  as  it  was  a  terrible  ride ;  but  whether  to  turn 
to  the  right  or  left,  we  had  forgot.  I  thought  to  the  right ;  but 
my  lad  was  positive,  he  remembered  the  direction  was  to  take 
the  left-hand  road.  This  caused  a  stop  for  some  time,  and  as 
I  was  a  little  fatigued,  I  thought  it  best  while  we  paused  to  dine. 
O'FiNN  brought  immediately  some  meat,  bread,  and  a  bottle  of 
cyder,  from  his  valise,  and  under  a  great  oak  I  sat  down,  while 
our  horses  fed  on  the  green.  One  hour  we  rested,  and  then  went 
on  again,  to  the  left,  as  O'FiNN  advised.  For  several  hours  we 
rode,  or  rather  our  horses  walked,  till  we  got  out  of  the  wood,  and 
then  arrived  at  the  bottom  of  a  steep  mountain  ;  one  side  of 
which  is  in  the  northern  extremity  of  Westmoreland,  and  the 
other  in  the  north  end  of  Stanemore-Richmondshire.  This  vast 
hill  we  ascended,  and  came  down  the  other  side  of  the  fell  into  a 
plain,  which  extends  south-east  for  near  half  a  mile  to  the  river 
Teese,  that  divides  the  north  end  of  Stanemore  from  Bishoprick, 
or  the  country  of  Durham.  Yorkshire  here  ends  in  an  obtuse 
angle,  between  two  mountains,  and  the  angle,  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  is  filled  with  that  beautiful  tall  ever-green  tree,  the  broad 
leaved  alaternus,  intermixed  here  and  there  in  a  charming  manner, 
with  the  fir  tree,  the  Norway  spruce,  and  the  balm  of  Gilead.  It 
is  as  fine  a  grove  as  can  in  any  part  of  the  world  be  seen. 

Just  at  the  entrance  of  it,  by  the  side  of  a  plentiful  spring,  which 
runs  into  the  Teese,  there  stood  the  prettiest  little  house  I  had 
ever  beheld,  and  over  it  crept  the  pretty  rock-rose,  the  cassine , 


THE  LIFE  OF 


the  sea-green  coromilla,  and  other  ever-green  shrubs.  Before 
the  house,  was  a  large  garden,  seven  or  eight  acres  of  land,  under 
fruit-trees,  and  vegetables  of  every  kind ;  very  beautifully  laid  out, 
and  watered  in  a  charming  manner  by  the  stream  that  murmured 
a  thousand  ways  from  the  spring  by  the  house-door.  I  have  not 
seen  a  sweeter  thing.  It  appeared  so  beautiful  and  useful,  so 
still  and  delightful  a  place,  so  judiciously  cultivated,  and  happily 
disposed,  that  I  could  not  help  wishing  to  be  acquainted  with  the 
owner  of  such  a  lodge. 

As  there  was  no  other  fence  to  this  fine  spot  of  ground  but  a 
ditch  like  a  ha  to  keep  cattle  out,  I  leaped  into  the  gardens,  and 
roamed  about  for  some  time,  to  look  at  the  curious  things.  I 
then  went  up  to  the  house,  in  hopes  of  seeing  a  human  creature 
either  high  or  low.  I  knocked  at  the  door,  but  no  one  could  I 
find,  though  the  mansion  did  not  look  like  an  uninhabited  place. 
I  then  sauntered  into  the  grove  behind,  and  in  a  winding  way 
of  three  hundred  yards,  that  had  been  cut  through  the  perennial 
wood,  and  was  made  between  banks  of  springing  flowers,  beautiful 
exotics,  and  various  aromatic  shrubs,  crept  on  till  I  arrived  at  a 
sleeping  parlour,  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  a  circular  acre  of 
ground,  and  was  surrounded  and  shaded  with  a  beautiful  grove  ; 
the  larix,  the  Phoenician  cedar,  and  the  upright  savin.  There 
was  a  little  falling  water  near  the  door,  that  was  pleasing  to  look 
at,  and  charmed  the  ear.  Entering  this  room,  I  found  the  walls 
painted  by  some  masterly  hand,  in  baskets  of  flowers,  and  the 
finest  rural  scenes.  Two  handsome  couches  were  on  either  side 
the  chamber,  and  between  these  lits-de-repos  was  as  curious  a 
table  for  wood  and  workmanship  as  could  be  seen.  Pretty  stools 
stood  near  it,  and  a  one-arm  chair.  It  was  a  sweet  silent  place, 
and  in  every  respect,  far  beyond  the  sleeping  parlour  in  the 
gardens  at  Stow.* 

On  one  of  the  couches,  as  it  was  then  evening,  and  I  knew  not 
what  to  do,  I  threw  myself  down,  and  very  soon  fell  fast  asleep. 
I  lay  the  whole  night  without  waking,  and  as  soon  as  I  could 
perceive  any  day,  went  to  see  what  was  become  of  O'FiNN  and  the 
horses.  The  beasts  I  found  feeding  on  very  good  grass  in  the 
green  ;  and  my  lad  still  snoring  under  a  great  tree  :  but  he  was 
soon  on  his  legs,  and  gave  me  the  following  account. 

About  an  hour  after  my  departure  from  him,  he  saw  a  poor 
man  pass  over  the  plain,  who  had  come  down  the  mountain  we 
descended,  and  was  going  to  cross  the  Teese  in  a  small  skiff  of  his 
own,  in  order  to  go  to  his  cottage  on  the  other  side  in  Bishoprick  : 
that  he  lived  by  fishing  and  fowling,  and  sold  what  he  got  by 
land  and  water  to  the  quality  and  gentlefolk,  twenty  miles  round 
him.  And  on  asking  who  lived  in  the  house  before  us,  on  the 

*  Lord  Cobham's,*now  Earl  Temple's  seat  in  Buckinghamshire,  fifty-nine  miles  from  London. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  271 

skirts  of  the  grove,  he  said,  it  belonged  to  a  young  lady  of  great 
fortune,  Miss  ANTONIA  CRANMER,  whose  father  died  in  the  house 
I  saw,  and  had  been  dead  about  a  year  ;  that  she  was  the  greatest 
beauty  in  the  world,  and  only  nineteen,  and  for  one  so  young, 
wise  to  an  astonishing  degree  ;  that  she  lived  mostly  at  this  seat, 
with  her  cousin,  AGNES  VANE,  who  was  almost  as  handsome  as 
she  :  that  Miss  CRANMER  had  to  relish  for  the  word,  being  used 
to  still  life,  and  seldom  stirred  from  home  but  to  visit  an  old  lady, 
her  aunt,  who  lived  in  Cumberland  :  that  she  was  at  present 
there,  about  twenty  miles  off,  and  would  soon  return  :  that  she 
kept  four  young  gentlewomen,  who  had  no  fortunes,  to  attend 
her  and  Miss  VANE  ;  two  old  men  servants,  a  gardener,  and  a 
cook ;  and  two  boys  ;  that  whenever  she  went  from  her  house, 
she  took  her  whole  family  with  her,  and  left  every  place  locked 
up  as  I  saw.  O'FiNN's  account  surprised  me.  It  set  me  athinking 
if  it  was  possible  to  get  this  charming  girl.  I  paused  with  my 
finger  in  my  mouth  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  bid  him  saddle  the 
horses. 

As  soon  as  it  was  possible,  I  went  over  the  river  to  the  fisher- 
man's house,  determining  to  wait  there,  till  I  could  see  the 
beautiful  ANTONIA,  and  her  fair  kinswoman,  another  AGNES  DE 
CASTRO,  to  be  sure.  My  curiosity  could  not  pass  two  such  glorious 
objects  without  any  acquaintance  with  them. 

The  poor  fisherman  gave  me  a  bed  very  readily  for  money, 
as  he  had  one  to  spare  for  a  traveller,  and  he  provided  for  me 
every  thing  I  could  desire.  He  brought  bread  and  ale  from  a 
village  a  few  miles  distant,  and  I  had  plenty  of  fish  and  wild- 
fowl for  my  table.  Every  afternoon  I  crossed  the  water,  went  to 
the  sleeping  parlour,  and  there  waited  for  the  charming  ANTONIA. 
Twenty  days  I  went  backwards  and  forwards,  but  the  beauties 
in  that  time  did  not  return.  Still  however  I  resolved  to  wait, 
and,  to  amuse  myself  till  they  came,  went  a  little  way  off  to  see  an 
extraordinary  man. 

While  I  resided  in  this  cottage,  CHRISTOPHER  informed  me, 
that  about  three  miles  from  his  habitation,  there  lived,  in  a  wild 
and  beautiful  glen,  a  gentleman  well  worth  my  knowing,  not  only 
on  account  of  his  pretty  lodge,  and  lone  manner  of  spending  his 
time,  but  as  he  was  a  very  extraordinary  man.  This  was  enough 
to  excite  my  curiosity,  and  on  the  first  of  May,  as  soon  as  it  was 
light,  I  went  to  look  for  this  solitary.  I  found  him  in  a  vale, 
romantically  situated,  indeed,  amongst  vast  rocks,  ill-shaped  and 
rude,  and  surrounded  with  trees,  as  venerable  as  the  forest  of 
Fontainbleau.  His  little  house  stood  on  the  margin  of  a  fountain, 
and  was  encompassed  with  copses  of  different  trees  and  greens. 
The  pine,  the  oak,  the  ash,  the  chestnut  tree,  cypresses,  and  the 
acassia,  diversified  the  ground,  and  the  negligent  rural  air  of  the 
whole  spot,  had  charms  that  could  always  please.  Variety  and 


272  THE  LIFE  OF 


agreeableness  were  everywhere  to  be  seen.  Here  was  an  arbour 
of  shrubs,  with  odoriferous  flowers  ;  and  there,  a  copse  of  trees 
was  crowned  with  the  enamel  of  a  meadow.  There  was  a  collection 
of  the  most  beautiful  vegetables  in  one  part ;  and  in  another, 
an  assembly  of  ever-greens,  to  form  a  perpetual  spring.  PAN 
had  an  altar  of  green  turf,  under  the  shade  of  elms  and  limes  : 
and  a  water-nymph  stood  by  the  spring  of  a  murmuring  stream. 
The  whole  was  a  fine  imitation  of  nature  ;  simple  and  rural  to 
a  charming  degree. 

Here  lived  DORICK  WATSON,  an  English  gentleman,  who  had 
been  bred  a  catholic  in  France,  and  there  married  a  sister  of  the 
famous  Abbe  le  Blanc.  But  on  returning  to  his  own  country, 
being  inclined  by  good  sense  and  curiosity,  to  see  what  the 
Protestants  had  to  say  in  defence  of  their  reformation,  he  read 
the  best  books  he  could  get  on  the  subject,  and  soon  perceived 
that  Luther,  Melancthon,  Calvin  Zwinglius,  Bucer,  and  other 
ministers  of  Christ,  had  said  more  against  the  Romish  religion 
than  the  pretended  catholics  had  been  able  to  give  a  solid  answer 
to.  He  saw,  that  barbarity,  policy,  and  sophistry,  were  the  main 
props  of  popery  ;  and  that,  in  doctrine  and  practice,  it  was  one 
of  the  greatest  visible  enemies  that  Christ  has  in  the  world.  He 
found  that  even  Bellarmine's  notes  of  his  church  were  so  far 
from  being  a  clear  and  necessary  proof  that  the  church  of  Rome 
is  the  body  of  Christ,  or  true  church,  that  they  proved  it  to  be  the 
Great  Babylon,  or  that  great  enemy  of  God's  church,  which  the 
apostles  describe. 

He  saw  in  the  first  place,  that  there  has  not  been,  since  the 
writing  of  the  New  Testament,  any  empire,  but  that  of  the  church 
of  Rome,  so  universal  for  one  thousand  two  hundred  and  sixty 
years  together,  as  to  have  all  that  dwell  upon  earth,  peoples,  and 
multitudes,  and  nations,  and  tongues,  to  worship  it ;  which  is 
St.  John's  description  of  the  new  power  that  prevailed  on  the 
inhabitants  of  the  earth  to  receive  his  idolatrous  constitutions, 
and  yield  obedience  to  his  tyrannical  authority.  And  all  that 
dwell  on  the  earth  shall  worship  him,*  except  those  who  are 
enrolled  in  the  registers,  as  heirs  of  eternal  life,  according  to  the 
promises  of  the  mediator  of  acceptance  and  blessing.  The  waters, 
which  thou  sawest,  where  the  whore  sitteth,  are  peoples,  and 
multitudes,  and  nations,  and  tongues. |  Bellarmine's  Universality 
is  then  directed  against  him. 

The  Cardinal's  second  note,  continued  DORICK,  is  antiquity, 
and  his  third,  a  perpetual  and  uninterrupted  duration.  But  on 
examination,  I  could  find  no  ruling  power,  except  Rome  papal, 
so  ancient,  as  to  have  the  blood  of  prophets,  and  saints,  and  of 
all  that  were  slain  upon  earth,  of  that  kind  for  that  space  of  time, 
to  be  found  in  it.|  And  what  rule  but  papal  Rome  had  ever 

*  Revel,  ch.  xiii.  v.  8.        t  Ibid.  ch.  xvii.  v.  15.        J  Revel,  ch.  xviii.  v.  24. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  273 

so  long  a  duration  upon  seven  hills,  so  as  to  answer  the  whole  length 
of  the  time  of  the  Saracen  and  Turkish  empires. 

The  Cardinal's  fourth  note  is  amplitude,  and  it  is  most  certain, 
that  never  had  any  other  church  such  a  multitude  and  variety  of 
believers,  as  to  have  all  nations  drink  of  the  wine  of  her  fornication 
and  to  gain,  a  blasphemous  power  over  all  kindreds,  and  tongues, 
and  nations. 

The  fifth  note  is  the  succession  of  its  bishops ;  and  the  sixth, 
Agreement  with  the  doctrine  of  the  ancient  church.  Now  it  is 
most  true,  that  none  but  Rome  was  ever  so  eminently  conspicuous 
for  so  long  a  time  for  the  succession  of  its  bishops  under  one 
supreme  patriarch,  as  to  be  the  living  image  of  all  the  civil 
dignities  of  the  empire,  where  it  was  under  one  supreme  church- 
head  exercising  all  the  power  of  the  civil  head  :  nor  did  ever  any 
enemy  of  God's  church  act  for  so  long  a  time  like  the  red  dragon 
in  its  bloody  laws  against  the  followers  of  the  lamb  :  and  yet  so 
far  agree  with  the  primitive  church  in  fundamental  doctrines 
as  to  answer  the  character  of  a  false  prophet  with  the  horns  of 
the  lamb,  that  is,  Christ,  but  speaking  like  the  red  dragon  to  his 
followers,  as  the  church  of  Rome  has  done.* 

*  Reader,  it  is  well  worth  your  while  to  turn  to  the  first  volume  of  that  admirable  work, 
the  Salttr's-HaU  Sermons  against  Popery,  and  there  see  how  the  Cardinal's  notes  of  his  church 
are  considered  by  that  learned  and  excellent  man,  Dr.  Samuel  Chandler.  His  consideration 
of  the  sixth  note  more  immediately  concerns  me  here,  and  therefore  I  give  you  an  abstract 
of  it. 

The  writings  of  the  apostles  are  allowed  even  by  our  adversaries  to  be  the  oldest  records 
of  Christianity,  and  therefore  to  this  ancient  and  infallible  rule  we  ought  to  appeal,  to  deter- 
mine the  controversy  between  us  and  the  papists,  that  is,  to  see  how  far  this  antiquity  favours 
their  doctrine  and  practices,  or  is  in  agreement  with  ours. 

i.  The  protestants  renounce  the  Pope,  and  acknowledge  one  law-giver,  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  for  these  reasons,  That  the  Pope  is  not  mentioned  in  the  New  Testament ;  that  Christ 
says,  one  is  your  master,  even  Christ ;  and  St.  Paul  says,  there  is  but  one  Lord,  and  one  Faith  J 
the  whole  family  in  heaven  and  earth  is  named  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

a.  Protestants  dp  not  pay  any  worship  at  all  to  saints  and  angels,  but  as  St.  Paul  directs  , 
consider  Jesus  Christ  as  their  sole  mediator  and  advocate  ;  for  there  is  but  one  God,  and  one 
mediator  between  God  and  man,  the  man  Jesus  Christ.  They  say,  such  veneration  and 
prayer  to  saints  and  angels  is  superstition  and  will-worship,  and  only  worship  God  with  all 
their  hearts  and  souls,  with  the  most  raised  affections,  and  the  highest  degrees  of  love  and 
fear,  faith  and  confidence  ;  for  it  is  written,  Thou  shalt  worship  the  Lord  God,  and  him  only 
shalt  thou  serve.  And  the  angel  in  the  Revelation  said  to  John,  who  fell  down  at  his  feet 
to  worship  him,  See  thou  do  it  not,  for  I  am  thy  fellow-servant. 

3.  We  affirm,  that  in  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  after  consecration,  there  is  no- 
thing existent  but  bread  and  wine ;  for  St.  Paul  says,  '  Whosoever  shall  eat  this  bread  and 
drink  this  cup,'  and  '  as  often  as  you  eat  this  bread  and  drink  this  cup.' 

4.  We  affirm  the  eucharist  is  only  a  memorial  of  Christ's  death  .  for  Christ  says,  do  this  in 
remembrance  of  me  ;  and  St.  Paul  assures  the  Corinthians  from  Christ  himself  ;  Cor.  ch.  xi. 
v.  24,  that  they  were  to  receive  the  elements  with  this  view  only  :  and  in  his  epistle  to  the 
Hebrews  he  tells  us,  that  by  one  offering  Christ  hath  for  ever  perfected  those  who  are  sanc- 
tified ;  and  that  because  there  is  remission  of  sins  under  the  new  covenant,  there  is  no  more 
offering  for  sin  ;  which  proves,  the  eucharist  is  not  a  propitiatory  sacrifice. 

5.  We  renounce  the  doctrine  of  purgatory,  and  affirm  that  the  future  state  is  no  state  of 
probation  ;  for  at  death,  the  dust  shall  return  to  the  earth  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  shall  return 
to  God  who  gave  it.    And  St.  Paul  declares,  that  at  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  every  one 
shall  receive  the  things  done  in  the  body,  according  to  that  he  hath  done,  whether  it  be  good 
or  bad. 

6.  Protestants  affirm,  that  the  worship  of  God  ought  to  be  performed  in  a  language  which 
all  men  understand;  and  that  they  have  a  right  to  search  the  scriptures.    For,  if  I  speak, 
with  tongues,  says  the  apostle,  in  such  a  language  as  those  I  speak  to  cannot  understand , 
what  shall  I  profit  you  ?     Let  all  things  be  done  to  edifying.     And  Christ  bids  us  search  the 


»74  THE  LIFE  OF 


The  seventh  note  of  Bellarmine's  holy  Roman  catholic  church, 
is  the  Union  of  the  members  among  themselves,  and  with  the  head. 
And  sure  it  is,  that  no  where  else  but  in  Rome  papal,  has  there 
been  such  union  of  head  and  members  for  that  length  of  time, 
as  to  apply  the  one  mind  of  the  ten  kings  for  their  agreement 
together,  to  give  their  power,  and  strength,  and  their  whole 
kingdoms  to  the  beast. 

The  eighth  note  produced  by  Cardinal  Bellarmine  is  Sanctity, 
and  WATSON  saw  it  fairly  proved  by  the  protestant  writers,  that 
no  church  but  Rome  did  ever  appear  so  long  together  with  such 
a  medley  of  sanctity,  in  some  doctrines,  and  outward  appearances 
of  a  strict  holiness  of  life,  joined  with  the  most  abominable 
doctrines,  and  practices,  to  qualify  it  for  the  horns  of  the  lamb, 
and  the  speech  of  the  dragon  for  the  idolatrous  and  cruel  com- 
mands of  the  image  ;  or,  for  having  the  form  of  godliness  in  the 
atter  times,  and  yet  denying  the  power  thereof. 

In  short,  DORICK  not  only  found,  on  a  careful  enquiry,  that 
the  system  of  the  church  of  Rome  was  error  and  turpitude,  abomin- 
ation, gain,  and  cruelty,  and  her  great  design  the  very  reverse 
of  the  gospel  revelation,  which  came  down  from  heaven  to  pre- 
pare men,  by  the  practice  of  universal  holiness  and  virtue,  for 
eternal  life  ;  but  likewise,  that  even  her  Cardinal's  notes 
prove,  this  church  cannot  be,  in  any  sense,  the  true  church 
of  Christ ;  and  Bellarmine  was  perfectly  infatuated  to  make 
choice  of  such  things  for  the  marks  of  his  church,  as  make  it  the 
very  picture  of  Babylon  the  Great.  He  resolved  then  to  come 
out  of  Rome.  He  determined  to  forsake  a  church,  which  had 
altered  the  institutions  of  Christ,  and  is  therefore  guilty  of  heresy 
as  well  as  schism. 

This  change  in  religion  gave  DORICK  the  highest  satisfaction, 

scriptures.  And  how  could  the  word  of  Christ  dwell  richly  in  us  in  all  wisdom,  teaching  and 
admonishing  one  another  in  psalms,  hymns,  and  spiritual  songs,  if  we  had  not  the  word  of 
Christ,  and  the  scriptures  of  truth  to  read  and  consult  for  ourselves. 

These  are  the  protestant  doctrines,  and  we  see  they  were  taught  by  Christ  and  by  his 
apostles.  We  have  the  sanction  of  the  most  venerable  antiquity  on  our  side,  and  this  note  of 
the  true  church  of  Christ  belongeth  to  us  in  the  highest  perfection. 

When  the  papists  then  scornfully  say,  Where  was  your  church  before  Luther  and  Calvin  ? 
The  answer  is  obvious  :  the  doctrine  of  our  church  was  in  the  writings  of  the  inspired  apostles, 
where  the  church  of  Rome  is  never  to  be  found  ;  the  same  that  was  taught  by  Christ  himself, 
whom  they  have  forsaken,  and  whose  faith  they  have  corrupted.  As  to  our  predecessors 
and  professors,  they  were  the  persecuted  disciples  of  the  crucified  Jesus,  those  martyrs  and 
confessors,  whose  blood  the  church  of  Rome  had  cruelly  spilt.  This  is  the  genuine  antiquity 
the  protestants  have  to  boast  of.  Their  doctrines  are  the  word  of  Christ,  and  their  fathers 
were  put  to  death  by  papists  for  the  testimony  of  Jesus. 

But  the  papists  on  the  contrary,  exclusive  of  the  example  of  the  devil,  who  was  a  murderer 
from  the  beginning,  and  Antiochus  Epiphanus,  Nero,  Domitian,  and  other  monsters  of  man- 
kind, who  went  before  them  in  the  measures  of  persecution,  cruelty,  and  blood  ;  and  excepting 
the  idolatrous  nations  of  the  earth,  and  the  false  prophets  and  deceivers  among  the  Jew5,  by 
whose  authority  and  example  they  may  vindicate  their  own  idolatries,  they  have  no  genuine 
antiquity  to  plead.  Many  of  their  doctrines  were  unknown  to,  or  abhorred  by  the  primitive 
Church,  and  are  mere  novelties  and  innovations,  that  were  originally  introduced  by  super- 
stition and  then  maintained  by  cruelty  and  blood. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  275 

as  he  told  me,  and  it  was  doubled  by  his  being  able  to  convert  his 
beloved  ADELAIDE  from  popery  to  the  church  of  Christ.     But 
this  joy  had  soon  after  some  mitigation,  by  losing  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  women  in  the  world.     Death  robbed  him  of  his  heart's 
fond  idol,  and  by  that  stroke  he  was  so  wounded,  that  he  could 
not  heal  himself  for  a  long  time.     He  became  the  real  mourner. 
He  kept  the  reasons  of  his  anguish  continually  before  him,  and 
was  more  intent  upon  spending  his  spirits,  than  his  sorrows.     He 
grew  fond  of  solitude  and  silence,  that  he  might  indulge  his  passion, 
and  provoke  the  emotion  of  that  grief  that  was  ready  to  devour 
him.     In  short,  he  retreated  to  the  silent  place  I  found  him  in, 
which  was  a  part  of  his  own  estate,  and  turned  hermit.     He  built 
the  little  villa  I  saw  by  the  water-side,  and  formed  the  ground 
into  the  natural  garden  I  beheld.     Le  Blanc  mentions  it  in  his 
letters,  as  an  extraordinary  thing,  and  very  justly  prefers  it  to 
the  laboured  and  expensive  Gardens  at  Chiswick,  the  work  of 
the  late  Lord  Burlington.      Here  WATSON  laid  in  every  thing 
he  had  a  mind  for,  and  filled  his  closet  with  books.      He  amused 
and  kept  himself  healthy  by  working  in  his  garden,  and  when  he 
had  done  abroad,  went  in  to  read.     His  principal  study  was  the 
contemplation  of  the  best  learning,  which  is  the  true  Christian 
and  from  that  he  went  to  know  what  the  Greeks  and  Romans 
have  resolved  and  taught.     In  some  things  I  found  he  was'  a 
learned  agreeable  man,  and  wondered  greatly  at  his  whim  in 
turning  hermit.     I  said  a  great  deal  against  it,  as  we  sat  over  a 
bottle  of  claret ;   told  him  he  might  employ  his  time  and  talents 
more  usefully  in  the  world  by  mixing  and  conversing  with  his 
fellow-creatures,  and  by  a  mutual  participation  and  conveyance 
of  the  common  blessings  of  nature  and  providence  ;    and  as  he 
was  not  yet  forty,  advised  him  to  go  over  the  Teese,  and  make 
his  addresses  to  Miss  CRANMER  or  Miss  VANE,  both  of  them  being 
most  glorious  girls,  as  I  was  told,  and  capable  of  adding  greatly 
to  the  delights  of  philosophy.     You  have  not  seen  two  finer 
creatures,  soul  and  body,  than  they  are,  if  I  have  been  rightly 
informed  ;   and  I  think,  it  would  be  a  nobler  and  more  religious 
act  to  get  one  of  them  with  child,  in  the  state  of  holy  wedlock, 
than  to  write  the  best  book  that  was  ever  printed.     For  my  own 
part,   I  had  rather  marry,   and  double-rib  one  of    these   dear 
creatures,  than  die  with  the  character  of  a  father  of  the  deserts. 
But  in  vain  did  I  remonstrate  to  this  anchoret.     Contemplation 
was  become  his  Venus,  from  the  hour  he  lost  his   ADELAIDE 
and  he  had  lived  so  very  happy  in  his  lone  state  for  seven  years 
past,  that  he  could  not  think  of  hazarding  felicity  by  a  change 
of  life.     He  had  all  he  desired.     If  at  any  time,  any  thing  was 
wanting,  CHRISTOPHER  the  fisherman,  who  came  to  see  him  once 
or  twice  a  week,  very  quickly  got  him  whatever  he  required. 
This  was  WATSON'S  answer  to  my  advice,  and  seeing  it  was  to 


276  THE  LIFE  OF 

no  purpose  to  say  any  more,  I  wished  my  hermit  health,  and  bid 
him  adieu. 

Having  previously  mentioned  the  famous  Abbe  Le  Blanc, 
I  think  I  ought  to  say  something  of  him  in  this  place,  by  adding 
a  few  remarks  in  relation  to  this  extraordinary  man.  He  was  in 
England  in  the  year  1735,  and  wrote  two  volumes  of  Letters  in 
octavo,  which  were  translated  into  English,  and  printed  for  Brind- 
ley  in  1747.  In  this  account  of  England,  the  French  monk  pre- 
tends to  describe  the  natural  and  political  constitution  of  our 
country,  and  the  temper  and  manners  of  the  nation  ;  but  it  is 
evident  from  his  epistles  that  he  knew  nothing  at  all  of  any  of 
them. 

Voltaire,  however,  that  wonderful  compound  of  a  man,  half- 
infidel,  half-papist,  who  seems  to  have  had  no  regard  for  Chris- 
tianity, and  yet  compliments  popery,  at  the  expense  of  his  under- 
standing,* who  wrote  the  history  of  England  with  a  partiality  and 
malevolence  almost  as  great  as  Smollett,  and  pretended  to  describe 
the  Britannic  constitution,  though  it  is  plain  from  what  he  says, 
that  he  had  not  one  true  idea  of  the  primary  institutions  of  it,  but 
taking  this  nation  to  be  just  such  another  kingdom  of  slaves  as  his 
own  country,  railed  at  the  Revolution,  and  like  all  the  Jacobite 
dunces,  prated  against  the  placing  the  Prince  of  Orange  on  the 
throne,  and  the  establishment  of  the  succession  in  the  present 
protestant  heirs  ;  though  it  is  most  certain,  that  these  things 
were  the  most  natural  fruit  and  effect  of  our  incom- 
parable constitution,  and  are  de  jure.  In  short,  that 
Zolius  and  plagiary,  that  carping  superficial  critic,  as  a 
good  judge  calls  him ;  who  abuses  the  English  nation  in  his 
letters,  and  denies  Shakespeare  (who  furnishes  out  more  elegant, 
pleasing,  and  interesting  entertainment,  in  his  plays,  than  all  the 
other  dramatic  writers,  ancient  and  modern,  have  been  able  to  do 
and,  without  observing  any  one  unity  but  that  of  character 
for  ever  diverts  and  instructs,  by  the  variety  of  his  incidents,  the 
propriety  of  his  sentiments,  the  luxuriancy  of  his  fancy  and  the 
purity  and  strength  of  his  dialogue)  almost  every  dramatic  excel- 

*  Voltaire's  words  are : — And  notwithstanding  all  the  troubles  and  infamy  which  the 
church  of  Rome  has  had  to  encounter,  she  has  always  preserved  a  greater  decency  and  gravity 
in  her  worship  than  any  of  the  other  churches  ;  and  has  given  proofs,  that  when  in  a  state 
of  freedom,  and  under  due  regulations,  she  was  formed  to  give  lessons  to  all  others.  Is  not 
this  facing  the  world,  and  contradicting  truth  with  a  bold  front  ?  Decency  and  gravity  in 
the  church  of  Rome !  The  licentious  whore.  And  formed  to  give  lessons !  Lessons, 
Voltaire  !  Is  not  her  wisdom,  in  every  article  of  it,  earthly,  sensual,  devilish  ;  and  her  zeal, 
that  bitter,  fierce,  and  cruel  thing,  which  for  ever  produces  confusion  and  every  evU  work  ? 
With  a  just  abhorrence,  and  a  manly  indignation,  we  must  look  upon  this  mystery  of  iniquity, 
and  never  let  that  horror  decay,  which  is  necessary  to  guard  us  against  the  gross  corruptions 
of  the  Roman  church  ;  the  idolatry  of  her  worship,  the  absurdity  and  impiety  of  her  doctrines 
the  tyranny  and  cruelty  of  her  principles  and  practices.  These  are  her  lessons,  Voltaire  ; 
and  you  ought  to  ask  the  world  pardon  for  daring  to  recommend  a  church,  whose  schemes 
and  pieties  bid  defiance  to  reason,  and  are  inconsistent  with  the  whole  tenor  of  revelation. 
This  is  the  more  incumbent  on  you,  as  you  say  you  are  a  philosopher,  and  let  us  know  in 
more  places  than  one  in  your  writings,  that  by  that  word,  you  mean  a  man  who  believes 
nothing  at  all'  of  any  revelation. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  277 

lence  ;  though  in  his  Mahomet,  he  pilfers  from  Macbeth  almost 
every  capital  scene  :  Voltaire,  I  say,  speaking  of  this  Abbe  Le 
Blanc,  wishes  he  had  travelled  through  all  the  world,  and  wrote  on 
all  nations,  for  it  becomes  only  a  wise  man  to  travel  and  write. 
Had  I  always  such  cordials,  I  would  not  complain  any  more  of  my 
ills.  I  support  life,  when  I  suffer.  I  enjoy  it  when  I  read  you. 
This  is  Voltaire's  account  of  the  Abbe.  How  true  and  just  it  is, 
we  shall  see  in  a  few  observations  on  what  this  reverend  man  says 
of  our  religion  and  clergy. 

The  substance  of  what  this  French  monk  reports,  vol.  ii.  from 
64  to  p.  75  in  his  letter  to  the  President  Bouhier,*  is  this  : 

1.  That  Cranmer,  and  the  other  doctors,  who  introduced  the 
reformation  into  England,  were  downright  enthusiasts,  and  com- 
passed their    designs   by  being  seconded  by  those,   who    were 
animated  by  a  spirit  of  irreligion,  and  by  a  greedy  desire  of  seizing 
the  possessions  of  the  monks. 

It  was  the  desire  of  a  change  established  the  reformation.  The 
new  doctors  seduced  the  people,  and  the  people  having  mistaken 
darkness  for  light,  quitted  the  road  of  truth,  to  walk  in  the  ways 
of  error. 

2.  As  to  morals,  that  this  boasted  reformation  produced  no 
change  in  that  respect :  for  the  people  are  not  purer  than  they 
were  in  former  times,  and  the  ecclesiastics  are  despised  and  hated 
for  the  badness  of  their  lives.     The  bishops  sacrifice  everything  to 
their  ambition  ;  and  the  clergy  of  the  second  rank  have  no  respect 
for  their  office.      They  spend  the  whole  day  in  public  places  in 
smoking  and  drinking,  and  are  remarkable  for  drunkenness,  so 
dishonourable  to  ecclesiastics.     Their  talk  is  the  most  dissolute, 
and  the  vice  that  degrades  these  professors,  sets  a  bad  example 
to  sober  people,  and  makes  them  the  jest  of  libertines. 

•Reader — Bouhier,  president  of  the  French  academy,  to  whom  Le  Blanc  inscribes  his 
fifty-eight  letter,  died  in  1746.  He  was  a  scholar.  L'Abb6  de  Olivet,  speaks  of  him  in  the 
following  manner  :  "  Je  me  suis  pr£t6  a  ce  nouveau  travail,  et  d'autant  plus  volontiers,  que 
M.  le  President  Bouhier  a  bien  voulu  le  partager  avec  moi.  On  sera,  sans  doute,  charmS 
de  voir  CicSron  entre  les  mains  d'un  traducteur  aussi  digne  de  lui,  que  Cic6ron  lui-me^ne 
6toit  digne  d'avoir  pour  traducteur  un  savant  du  premier  ordre."  Tusc.  Disp.  torn.  i.  p.  13. 
And  again  :  "  Le  feu  M.  President  Bouhier,  le  Varron  de  notre  siecle,  et  rhomme  le  plus 
capable  de  bien  rendre  les  vraies  beaut£s  d'un  orginal  Grec  ou  Latin,  avoit  tellement  retouche 
ses  deux  Tusculanes,  qu'on  aura  peine  a  les  reconnoitre  dans  cette  nouvelle  edition."  Tusc. 
Disp.  tome  ii.  p.  i. 

This  is  Olivet's  account  of  Bouhier  ;  and  I  have  heard  some  gentlemen  who  knew  him  say. 
that  he  was  a  very  fine  genius ;  but,  they  added,  a  popish  bigot  to  the  last  degree,  and 
therefore,  Le  Blanc  chose  him  as  the  fittest  person  of  his  acquaintance,  to  write  an  epistle 
to,  that  abused  the  reformation,  and  the  English  divines.  Great  is  the  prejudice  of  educa- 
tion !  When  so  bright  a  mind  as  Bouhier's  cannot  see  the  deformity  of  Popery,  and  the  beauty 
of  the  reformation ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  with  pleasure  reads  the  despicable  defamation 
in  Le  Blanc's  letter. 

N.B.  The  two  Tusculans,  so  finely  translated  by  Bouhier,  are  the  third,  de  JEgritudine 
Lenienda ;  and  the  fifth,  Virtutem  ad  Beate  Vivendum  seipsa  esse  Contentant.  De  la  Vertu  ; 
Qu'elle  suffit  pour  Vivre  Heureux.  See  likewise  M.  Bouhier's  curious  and  useful  remarks 
on  the  three  books,  De  Naiura  Deorum  :  the  five  Tusculans  :  Scipio's  Dream  :  and  on  the 
Catilinaires,  or  three  Orations  against  Catiline.  These  remarks  are  the  third  volume  of  Olivet' s 
fine  edition  of  Cicero. 


278  THE  LIFE  OF 


3.  The  only  remarkable  change  produced  by  the  reformation 
was  the  marriage  of  priests,  and,  exclusive  of  this  being  against 
the  decisions  of  the  Catholic  church,  it  is  contrary  to  sound  policy 
and  experience.  The  marriage  of  priests  diminishes  the  respect 
we  should  have  for  them.  The  misconduct  of  a  woman  makes  the 
clergyman  fall  into  contempt.  The  lewdness  of  the  daughter 
makes  the  priest,  her  father,  the  object  of  the  most  indecent  jests  ; 
and  for  the  most  part,  the  daughters  of  the  clergy  turn  whores 
after  the  death  of  their  father ;  who,  while  living,  spent  more  of  his 
income  in  maintaining  himself  and  children  in  pleasure  and 
luxury,  than  in  works  of  charity.  He  lived  profusely,  and  dies 
poor. 

Besides,  if  the  English  clergy  were  the  greatest  and  most  excel- 
lent men,  yet  a  great  man  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  loses  the  respect 
which  is  due  to  him,  in  proportion  as  he  has  any  thing  in  common 
with  the  rest  of  mankind.  A  Madam  Newton,  and  a  Madam 
Fontenelle,would  injure  the  illustrious  men  whose  name  they  bore. 
Nor  is  this  all.  Those  who  by  their  disposition  cannot  fix  that 
secret  inclination,  which  induces  us  to  love,  on  one  person,  are  more 
humane  and  charitable  than  others.  The  unmarried  ecclesiastics 
are  more  animated  with  that  charitable  spirit  their  function 
requires,  as  they  have  no  worldly  affections  to  divert  it.  People 
very  rarely,  as  Lord  Bacon  says,  employ  themselves  in  watering 
plants,  when  they  want  water  themselves.  In  short,  the  English 
divines  are  the  worst  of  men,  and  there  is  hardly  any  religion  in 
England.  Thus  does  this  French  Abbe  revile  the  English  refor- 
mation and  divines.  He  misrepresents  the  whole  nation,  and  with 
a  falsehood  and  outrage  peculiar  to  popery  and  mass-priests,  that 
is,  to  devils  and  the  most  execrable  religion  screams  against  the 
pure  religion  of  the  gospel,  and  dishonestly  blackens  some  of  the 
finest  characters  that  ever  adorned  human  nature.  So  very  viru- 
lent is  this  reverend  French  papist  against  the  clergy  of  England, 
that  he  is  even  positive  there  is  not  a  divine  in  the  nation  knows 
how  to  behave  like  a  gentleman. 

In  answer  to  the  first  article  of  impeachment,  I  observe,  that  it 
is  so  far  from  being  true,  that  Cranmer,  and  other  English  divines, 
our  reformers,  were  enthusiasts,  and  compassed  their  designs  by 
the  assistance  of  those  who  were  animated  by  a  spirit  of  irreligion, 
and  by  a  greedy  desire  of  seizing  the  possession  of  the  monks,  as 
this  mass-priest  asserts  ;  that  it  is  most  certain,  on  the  contrary, 
Cranmer,  and  the  other  reformers,  were  wise  and  upright  Christians, 
who,  from  a  good  understanding  of  religion,  opposed  the  false  pre- 
tensions of  the  church  of  Rome.  They  saw  that  Popery  was  con- 
trary to  the  true  genius  of  Christianity ;  its  spirit  insolent  and 
cruel ;  and  its  worship  not  only  a  j  umble  of  the  most  ridiculous 
fopperies  and  extravagancies,  borrowed  from  heathen  customs 
and  superstitions  ;  but  the  impurest  that  ever  appeared  in  the 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  a/9 

world  :  that  the  designs  of  Popish  Rome  were  contrary  to  all  the 
principles  of  humanity  ;  its  doctrines  abominable  and  sinful ;  and 
its  offices  cursed  and  diabolical ;  it  was  evident,  I  say,  to  the  con- 
ception of  these  great  men,  I  mean  Cranmer,  and  the  other  English 
reformers,  that  the  Romish  church  was  treacherous  and  inhuman, 
blood-thirsty  and  anti-Christian  ;  that  her  devotions  were  horrible 
and  impious  ;  her  ministers  false  prophets  and  liars,  covered  and 
decked  with  the  livery  of  Christ,  but  in  everything  acting  con- 
trary to  the  salvation  wrought  by  Jesus  ;  and  therefore  these  wise 
and  excellent  reformers  renounced  popery,  and  bravely  declared 
for  that  religion,  which  promotes  the  good  of  all  mankind,  and 
inspires  men  to  worship  the  Father  only  in  spirit  and  in  truth, 
They  threw  off  the  cloak  and  garments  of  anti- Christ :  they 
gloriously  separated  from  him,  and  joined  together  in  purity  and 
simplicity,  to  please  the  Lord  Jehovah.  There  was.  no  enthusiasm 
in  the  case  (as  Le  Blanc,  the  mass-priest,  has  the  front  to  say)  but, 
when  the  light  of  the'gospel  was  obscured,  and  darkness  had  over- 
spread the  earth  :  when  ignorance  and  superstition  universally 
prevailed,  and  the  immoralities  of  the  Church  of  Rome  were  made 
to  pass  for  Christianity  in  the  world,  then  did  these  reformers  call 
the  people  out  of  Rome,  and  preach  to  them  the  essential  truths  of 
the  faith.  They  called  them  from  an  idolatrous  religion,  and  all  its 
train  of  direful  effects  ;  from  that  sin  of  the  first  rank,  which  strikes 
at  the  being  of  a  God,  and  ravishes  from  him  the  greatest  honour 
that  is  due  to  him  from  his  creature,  man  ;  they  called  them  from 
horrible  service  of  the  mass,  from  their  addresses  to  angels  and 
saints,  and  their  worship  of  images,  to  the  inward  knowledge  of  one 
true  God,  and  the  worship  due  to  him  only ;  to  the  sanctification 
and  honour,  which  is  due  to  him  above  all  things,  and  above  every 
name  ;  to  the  living  hope  in  God  through  Christ ;  to  regeneration, 
and  inward  renovation  by  faith,  hope,  and  charity  ;  to  a  holy  con- 
versation, and  a  faithful  performance  of  all  the  commandments  ; 
to  true  repentance,  perseverance  to  the  end,  and  lif e  eternal.  To 
these  truths  (not  to  be  found  in  the  religion  of  our  travelling  mass- 
priest)  did  the  great,  the  glorious  English  reformers  call  mankind. 
They  laboured  to  establish  them  in  every  thing  tending  to  a  pure 
faith,  and  good  life.  In  this,  there  is  not,  there  cannot  be  any 
enthusiasm. 

And  as  to  their  being  assisted  by  those  who  were  animated  by  a 
spirit  of  irreligion,  and  by  a  greedy  desire  of  seizing  the  possessions 
of  the  monks,  it  does  not  appear  to  be  the  truth  of  the  case.  Sup- 
posingjthere  were  such  irreligious  men,  the  assistance  the  reformers 
had  from  any  great  men  in  Henry  the  Eighth's  time,  when  the 
abbeys  were  destroyed,  was  so  very  little,  that  malice  only  could 
mention  it  as  an  objection  to  the  reformation.  Popery,  in  that 
monarch's  reign,  was  still  the  established  religion  of  England,  and 
both  sides  blame  this  king's  persecutions.  If  papists  were  put  to 


280  THE  LIFE  OF 


death  for  denying  the  supremacy  of  Harry,  protestants  were  no 
less  sufferers,  for  opposing  the  adoration  of  the  host,  and  other 
religious  impieties.  And  after  the  short  reign  of  his  son,  Edward 
the  Sixth  what  assistance  had  the  reformers  under  bloody  Mary  ? 
Did  she  not  do  all  that  infernal  popery  could  suggest,  to  destroy 
Cranmer,  his  brethren,  and  their  reformation  ?  And  did  not  they, 
without  any  other  assistance  than  what  they  received  from  the 
spirit  of  God,  continue  to  vindicate  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  and 
teach  the  pure  doctrines  of  the  gospel,  in  opposition  to  the  frauds 
and  vile  inventions  of  papal  Rome  ?  Without  minding  the  indig- 
nities, the  torments,  and  the  cruel  death  prepared  for  them,  the 
brave  honest  men  went  on  with  their  heavenly  work,  and,  till  the 
flames  made  them  silent,  endeavoured  to  destroy  the  Romish 
artifices  and  immoralities,  and  to  spread  the  pure  religion  and 
undefiled  before  God  and  the  Father.  They  were  zealous,  with 
the  truth  of  religion  on  their  side,  and  laboured  to  convert,  out  of  a 
pure  and  friendly  regard  to  the  eternal  welfare  of  mankind.  They 
did  the  work,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  and  therefore  the  malicious 
Le  Blanc,  the  mass-priest,  reviles  and  blackens  them. 

What  he  says  of  usurpation  in  respect  of  church  lands,  does  not 
deserve  any  notice.  The  reforming  clergy  were  not  the  actors  in 
that  scene.  It  was  the  king  and  his  council.  And  as  the  Pope 
yet  there  were  others  to  employ  the  church  lands  about,  as  some 
of  them  were  in  founding  new  bishoprics.  And  if  in  this  case,  the 
reformers  had  been  guilty  of  some  wilful  errors,  that  could  be  no 
crime  of  the  reformation.  The  culpable  must  answer  it.  For  the 
satisfaction  of  conscience  about  the  reformation,  there  can  be  but 
three  questions  fairly  proposed.  Was  there  sufficient  cause  for 
it  ?  Was  there  sufficient  authority  ?  And  whether  the  proceed- 
ings of  our  reformation  were  justifiable  by  the  rule  of  scripture, 
and  the  ancient  church  ?  Upon  these  points  we  ought  to  join  issue, 
and  I  am  sure  the  conclusion  must  be  in  the  affirmative. 

As  to  Le  Blanc's  second  observation  in  relation  to  the  marriage 
of  priests,  which  our  reformation  he  says  produced,  it  may  be 
answered,  that  the  doctrine  of  a  priest's  marriage  being  unlawful, 
was  borrowed  by  the  church  of  Rome  from  the  ancient  heretics  ; 
especially  from  the  Manichees,  who  allowed  marriage  to  their 
hearers,  as  the  church  of  Rome  doth  to  laymen  ;  but  forbad  it  to 
their  elect,  as  that  church  doth  to  her  priests.  St.  Augustin 
charges  the  Manichees  with  this  error.  Hie  non  dubito  vos  esse 
clamaturos  invidiamque  facturos,  castitatem  perfectam  vos 
vehementer  commendare  atque  laudare,  non  tamen  nuptias  pro- 
hibere,  quandoquidem  auditores  vestri  quorum  apud  vos 
secundus  est  gradus  ducere  atque  habere  non  prohibentur  uxores. 
De  Moribus  Manichesorum,  lib.  ii.  c.  18. 

The  first  pope  we  read  of  that  condemned  the  marriage  of 
priests,  was  Syricius,  the  Roman,  A.D.  384-398.  And  upon  this 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  281 


account,  I  wonder  Baronius  had  not  a  regard  to  his  memory  : 
but  it  has  been  the  misfortune  of  his  holiness  since  his  death  to  fall 
under  the  displeasure  of  the  Cardinal  to  that  degree,  that  he  has 
struck  him  out  of  his  catalogue  of  his  Romish  saints.  He  does 
not  tell  us  for  what  reason.  Perhaps  it  was  because  this  Pope 
rather  dissuaded  priests  from  marriage  than  peremptorily  forbad 
it,  as  appears  by  his  letters.  Syr.  epist.  i .  et  4.  apud  Binium. 

The  next  pope,  who  distinguished  himself  against  the  marriage 
of  priests,  was  the  son  of  Bald-head,  count  of  Burgundy,  whose 
granddaughter  was  consort  to  Lewis  the  sixth,  king  of  France  ;  I 
mean  the  celebrated  Guy,  archbishop  of  Vienne,  who  succeeded 
Gelasius,  A.D.  1119,  and  had  for  successor  in  the  year  1124, 
Lambert  of  Bononia,  commonly  called  Honorius  the  second. 
Calixtus  the  second,  pope  and  prince  of  Burgundy,  was  the  first 
who  absolutely  forbad  priests  marriage,  and  in  case  they  were 
married,  commanded  them  to  be  separated.  Grat.  Dist.  27.  c.  8. 
This  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  And  towards 
the  end  of  it,  A.D.  1 198,  the  renowned  son  of  Count  Trasimund,  I 
mean  Innocent  the  third,  the  ever  memorable  Cardinal  Lotharius, 
pronounced  all  the  marriages  of  priests  null.  And  afterwards 
came  on  the  council  of  Trent,  A.D.  1545 — 1563,  which  anathema- 
tizes those  who  say  such  marriages  are  valid.  Sess.  24.  can.  9. 

But  one  would  think,  that  God  sufficiently  declared  his  approba- 
tion of  such  marriages,  in  that  the  whole  world  hath  by  his 
appointment  been  twice  peopled  by  two  married  priests  ;  first  by 
Adam,  secondly  by  Noah.  And  we  are  sure,  the  holy  scripture 
tells  us,  That  marriage  is  honourable  in  all  ;*  and  places  it  among 
the  qualifications  of  a  bishop,  That  he  be  the  husband  of  one 
wife,  having  faithful  children,  f  This,  saith  St.  Chrysostom,  the 
apostle  prescribed  to  this  end,  that  he  might  stop  the  mouths  of 
heretics,  who  reproached  marriage  ;  declaring  thereby  that  mar- 
riage is  no  unclean  thing,  but  so  honourable,  that  a  married  man 
may  be  exalted  to  the  sacred  throne  of  a  bishop.  J  What  do 
you  say  to  this,  Le  Blanc  ?  I  fancy  you  never  read  this 
homily  of  Chrysostom.  And  well  might  this  saint  think  it 
not  unbecoming  a  bishop  to  marry,  when  our  Lord  thought  it 
not  unbecoming  an  apostle,  no  not  the  prince  of  the  apostles,  as 
the  Romanists  will  have  him,  for  it  is  without  doubt,  that  St. 
Peter  was  married  ;  in  that  the  scripture  makes  mention  of  his 
wife's  mother.  Matt.  viii.  14.  And  Clemens  of  Alexandria  tells 
us,  that  it  was  certainly  reported  that  when  he  saw  his  wife  led 
to  death,  he  rejoiced  ;  and  having  exhorted  her  and  comforted 
her,  he  called  her  by  her  name,  and  bid  her  remember  the  Lord. 
Stromat.  lib.  7.  p.  736.  lut.  1629.  And  that  he  was  not  only 
married,  but  begat  children,  the  same  Clemens  in  another  place 

*  Heb.  ch.  xiii.  v.  4.    f  Titus,  ch.  i.  v.  6.     $  Chrysost.  Horn.  ii.  in  c.  i.  ad  tit. 


28a  THE  LIFE  OF 


affirms  ;  Stromat.  lib.  3.  p.  448.  Yea  that  St.  Philip  and  St. 
Jude  were  also  married,  and  had  children,  Eusebius  is  witness. 
Eccles.  Hist.  lib.  3.  c.  20-31.  And  in  like  manner  we  find,  that 
many  of  the  primitive  bishops  were  married.  Charemon,  bishop 
of  Nilus,  St.  Spiridion,  St.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  St.  Gregory 
Nyssen,  St.  Hillary,  and  many  more,  were  married  men. 

Nor  can  it  be  said,  that  they  took  wives  while  they  were  lay- 
men, and  after  they  took  upon  them  the  sacred  ministry,  were 
separated  from  them  ;  since  the  canons,  commonly  called  the 
apostles,  did  prohibit  either  bishop,  priest,  or  deacon,  to  put 
away  his  wife  upon  pretence  of  religion.  See  Canon  5.  And 
if  any  such  shall  abstain  from  marriage,  as  in  itself  abominable, 
command  that  he  be  corrected,  or  deposed,  and  cast  out  of  the 
church.  Canon  50. 

Now  supposing  these  canons,  notwithstanding  all  that  Whis- 
ton  has  said,  were  not  made  by  them  whose  name  they  bear, 
yet  they  are  allowed  by  all  to  be  of  much  greater  antiquity  than 
the  first  Nicene  council.  And  when  in  that  council  it  was  moved 
that  bishops  and  priests,  deacons  and  sub-deacons,  might  not 
cohabit  with  their  wives,  which  they  had  taken  before  ordina- 
tion, the  motion  was  presently  dashed  by  the  famous  Paphnutius, 
who  was  himself  a  single  person.  Socrat.  Eccles.  Hist.  lib.  1.  c.  1 1 . 
Yea  a  long  time  after  this  council,  we  meet  with  many  popes, 
who  were  sons  of  bishops  and  priests. 

Pope  Theodorus,  Silverius,  and  Gelasius  I  were  the  sons  of 
bishops  ;  pope  Boniface  I.  Felix  II.  and  Agapetus  II.  were  the 
sons  of  priests.  Gratian.  Dist.  56.  c.  2.  and  that  we  may  not 
think  this  strange,  Gratian  himself  informs  us,  that  the  marriage 
of  priests  was  in  those  days  lawful  in  the  Latin  church.  Dist. 
56.  c.  12. 

Nor  is  this  doctrine  to  be  rejected  only  as  contrary  to  scripture, 
and  to  primitive  and  apostolical  practice,  but  because  of  the 
abominable  fruits  produced  in  the  church  of  Rome  by  it.  For 
when  the  clergy  might  not  have  wives,  which  God  allowed,  in- 
stead of  them  they  took  whores  ;  and  that  wickedness  so  far 
prevailed,  in  the  church,  that  the  Cardinal  of  Cambray  informs 
us,  De  Reform  Eccles,  many  clergymen  were  not  ashamed 
publicly,  in  the  face  of  the  world,  to  keep  concubines.  And 
the  gloss  upon  Gratian  says  "  A  priest  may  not  be  deposed  for 
simple  fornification,  because  there  are  few  priests  to  be  found 
without  that  fault."  This  made  Pius  II.  say,  that  though  priests 
were  by  the  western  church  forbid  to  marry  for  good  reason  yet 
there  was  stronger  reason  to  restore  marriage  to  them  again. 
Hist.  Council  Trent,  lib.  vii.  p.  680.  And  many  in  that  council 
were  so  sensible  of  this,  that  they  alleged  the  great  scandal 
given  by  incontinent  priests,  and  that  there  was  want  of  con- 
tinent persons  fit  to  exercise  the  ministry.  Paoli.  p.  679,  &c. 


•     JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  283 

The  Emperor  and  the  Duke  of  Bavaria  did  therefore  require, 
that  the  marriage  of  priests  might  be  granted.  Paoli,  p.  660, 
&c.  And  many  bishops  desired  that  married  persons  might  be 
promoted  to  holy  orders  ;  but  this  request  was  not  granted, 
because,  as  the  fathers  observed,  if  the  clergy  once  come  to  be 
married,  they  will  no  longer  depend  on  the  Pope,  but  on  their 
prince. 

To  conclude  this  article,  and  I  shall  do  it  in  the  words  of  a 
great  man,  a  prelate  of  the  church  of  England  ;  To  make  war 
against  the  very  Being  of  their  species,  they,  the  Romish  priests, 
devote  themselves  to  a  single  life,  in  blasphemous  opposition  to 
that  first  great  command  and  blessing,  increase  and  multiply. 

As  to  Le  Blanc's  third  observation,  relating  to  the  immoralities 
and  bad  behaviour  of  the  English  clergy  ;  I  answer,  if  there  are 
several  bad  men  among  so  large  a  body  as  the  protestant  divines 
are,  which  is  not  strange,  as  it  is  the  common  case  of  all  societies, 
yet  the  majority  of  them,  orthodox  and  other  dox,  are  as  worthy 
men  as  can  be  found  among  the  human  race.  I  am  very  sure 
my  acquaintance  among  them  has  been  much  larger  than  Le 
Blanc's  could  possibly  be  ;  and  I  can  affirm  from  my  own  know- 
ledge, that  there  are  very  many  of  this  order  of  men,  not  only 
as  fine  gentlemen  as  I  have  ever  conversed  with  ;  but,  a  clergy 
holy  in  heart,  superior  to  pride,  to  anger,  to  foolish  desires  : 
who  walk  as  Christ  also  walked,  and  by  their  example  and  doc- 
trine, labour  to  make  the  people  what  the  gospel  requires  they 
should  be  ;  that  is,  pious  and  useful,  pure  and  honest,  meek  and 
charitable  ;  to  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight ;  and  so  pass 
through  things  temporal,  that  they  may  be  sure  of  obtaining  the 
things  eternal.  This  I  can  say  of  many  English  divines  of  my 
acquaintance  :  and  I  may  add,  that  this  testimony  from  me 
who  am  not  over-fond  of  the  clergy,  as  the  main  of  the  Chris- 
tianity of  too  many  of  them  lies  in  their  opinion ;  decked  with  a 
few  outward  observances,  says  Wesley  very  truly,  in  his  letter 
to  Bishop  Warburton,  and  only  upon  occasion,  endeavour  now 
to  do  them  justice,  is  certainly  of  more  weight  in  their  favour, 
than  the  calumny  and  abuse  of  a  furious  bigot  and  mass-priest, 
can  be  to  make  the  world  have  as  bad  an  opinion  of  them,  as 
popery,  and  its  wretched  emissaries,  would  have  the  public 
entertain.  Consider  this  then  when  you  read  Le  Blanc's  letters. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  had  a  very  large  and  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  mass-priests  in  my  time,  in  many  parts  of  the 
world  ;  and,  a  few  excellent  once  excepted.  I  can  affirm,  that 
more  wicked  and  more  worthless  men  than  these  Romish  monks, 
I  have  never  seen.  If  adultery,  fornication,  drunkenness,  and 
swearing,  are  crimes,  then  the  greatest  criminals  I  could  name 
in  these  respects,  are  Roman-catholic  priests.  Let  this  assertion 
of  mine  be  set  over  against  the  character  the  Abbe  Le  Blanc 


284  THE  LIFE  OF 


gives  the  English  protestant  ministers.  Consider  all  I  have 
said,  when  you  read  this  mass-priest's  fifty-eighth  letter,  and 
then  judge  of  our  reformation  and  clergy.*  But  it  is  time  to 
return  to  the  cottage  of  Christopher  the  fisherman,  and  see 
what  happened  to  Antonia  and  Agnes. 

When  I  came  back  to  the  poor  man's  cottage,  he  told  me  the 
ladies  were  come  home,  and  as  he  had  given  Miss  CRANMER  some 
account  of  me,  as  a  traveller  who  had  journeyed  into  that  remote 
corner  of  the  world,  in  search  of  antiquities  and  curiosities,  he 
did  not  think  this  lady  would  be  averse  to  seeing  me  and  hearing 
me  too,  if  I  contrived  any  plausible  pretence  to  throw  myself 
in  her  way. 

Immediately  then  I  crossed  the  water,  went  up  to  the  house, 
and  as  I  saw  her  and  the  fair  AGNES,  her  cousin,  walking  in  the 
garden,  near  the  ha,  leaped  it  over  immediately,  broad  as  it  was, 
and  with  my  hat  in  my  hand,  made  her  a  low  bow,  began  an 
apology  for  presuming  to  introduce  myself  to  her  presence  in 
such  a  manner,  and  concluded  with  my  being  in  love  with  her 
charming  character,  before  I  had  the  honour  and  happiness 
of  seeing  her.  What  a  condition  then  must  I  be  in,  when 
a  heaven-born  maid,  like  her,  appeared  !  Strange  pleasures 
filled  my  soul,  unloosed  my  tongue,  and  my  first  talk  could  not 
be  any  thing  but  love.  I  said  much  on  the  subject,  not  worth 
repeating  to  the  reader  ;  and  the  issue  of  the  matter  was,  that  I 
became  so  well  acquainted  with  this  innocent  beauty,  that,  on 
taking  my  leave,  I  had  an  invitation  to  breakfast  with  her  the 
next  morning.  I  was  there  by  eight,  and  really  and  truly  quite 
charmed  with  her.  She  was  pretty  as  it  was  possible  for  flesh 
and  blood  to  be,  had  a  beautiful  understanding  ;  and  as  she 
had  very  little  notion  of  men,  having  seen  very  few,  except 
the  two  old  servants  who  lived  with  her,  she  had  not  a  notion 

*  Note,  reader,  in  the  fourth  volume  of  a  work,  called  Notes  relating  to  Men,  and  Things, 
and  Books,  you  will  find  some  more  of  my  remarks  on  the  Abbe  Le  Blanc's  epistles.  You 
will  see,  among  other  observations  on  this  monk,  a  vindication  of  Archbishop  Tillotson. 
The  Abbe  rails  at  one  of  this  prelate's  fine  sermons,  with  great  malice  and  impudence,  and 
has  the  vanity  to  think  his  miserable  declamation  an  answer.  This  wretched  and  despicable 
Romish  apostate  has  the  impudence  and  impiety  to  defend  the  worship  of  his  God  of  dough, 
and  would,  if  it  were  in  his  power,  persuade  the  readers  of  his  letters,  to  adore  the  tiny  cake 
he  prostrates  himself  before.  For  this  the  reader  will  find  the  mass-priest  well  chastised 
in  the  work  I  have  referred  to  ;  and  see  the  doctrine  of  the  Lord's  Supper  set  in  a  true  light. 
You  will  find  there  a  curious  history  of  the  mass,  from  the  time  the  popish  doctors  first  drew 
it  out  of  the  bottomless  pit ;  and  see  it  made  quite  evident,  that  in  this  abominable  article 
of  their  faith,  as  well  as  in  every  other  part  of  their  execrable  religion,  they  make  void  the  law 
of  God,  and  sink  the  human  race  into  the  vilest  slavery  and  idolatry.  Beware,  then,  Christians, 
of  popery.  Still  bravely  dare  to  protest  against  her  infernal  schemes  and  inventions,  and  draw 
your  religion  from  the  book  of  God,  that  holy  volume  of  inestimable  treasure.  It  is  our  light 
in  darkness,  our  comfort  under  affliction,  our  direction  to  heaven,  and  let  us  die  in  defence 
of  it,  if  ever  there  should  be  occasion,  rather  than  suffer  the  blood-thirsty  papists,  the  red- 
handed  idolaters,  to  snatch  it  out  of  our  hands.  They  will  give  us  for  it  the  despicable 
legends  of  fictitious  saints  and  false  miracles;  a  history  of  diseases  cured  instantly  by 
relics;  accounts  of  speaking  images — stories  of  travelling  chapels — wonders  done  by  a 
Madonna  ;  and  the  devil  knows  what  he  has  crowded  into  their  wretched  heads.  Down  with 
popery  then,  the  religion  of  hell,  and  may  that  happy  state  be  erected,  when  truth  and  love 
shall  embrace  and  reign.  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  285 

of  any  danger  that  could  come  from  conversing  freely  with  a 
man  she  knew  nothing  of,  and  who  might  be  an  enemy  in 
disguise. 

After  breakfast,  I  offered  to  go,  but  she  asked  me  to  stay  and 
dine  ;  and  to  sum  up  the  matter,  I  did  dine,  sup,  and  breakfast 
with  her  every  day,  for  a  month,  till  my  good  priest,  FRIAR 
FLEMING,  arrived,  on  a  letter  I  had  sent  him,  and  we  were  married 
before  the  end  of  six  weeks.  We  loved  to  excess,  and  did  en- 
hance human  happiness  to  a  high  degree.  She  was  good  as  an 
angel,  and  for  two  years  we  lived  in  unspeakable  felicity.  For 
the  greatest  part  of  that  time,  we  were  at  Orton-Lodge,  as  she 
liked  the  wild  place.  There  she  likewise  died  of  the  small-pox, 
in  the  first  month  of  the  third  year,  and  left  me  the  most  disconso- 
late of  men.  Four  days  I  sat  with  my  eyes  shut,  on  account  of 
this  loss,  and  then  left  the  Lodge  once  more,  to  live  if  I  could, 
since  my  religion  ordered  me  so  to  do,  and  see  what  I  was  next 
to  meet  with  in  the  world.  As  grief  sat  powerfully  on  my  spirits, 
and  if  not  dislodged,  would  have  drank  them  all  up  very  soon, 
I  resolved  to  hasten  to  Harrogate,  and  in  the  festivities  of  that 
place  forget  my  departed  partner  as  soon  as  I  could.  I  laid  my 
Antonia  by  my  Charlotte  and  my  Statia,  and  then  rode  off. 
What  happened  at  the  Wells,  and  all  the  observations  I  made 
there,  and  thereabout,  the  reader  will  find  shortly  narrated. 

As  I  mention  nothing  of  any  children  by  so  many  wives,  some 
readers  may  perhaps  wonder  at  this,  and  therefore,  to  give  a 
general  answer,  once  for  all,  I  think  it  sufficient  to  observe,  that 
I  had  a  great  many,  to  carry  on  the  succession  ;  but  as  they 
never  were  concerned  in  any  extraordinary  affairs,  nor  ever 
did  any  remarkable  things,  that  I  heard  of  ;  only  rise  and  break- 
fast, read  and  saunter,  drink  and  eat,  it  would  not  be  fair,  in 
my  opinion,  to  make  any  one  pay  for  their  history.* 

In  the  year  1731  I  arrived  at  Harrogate,  in  the  West-riding  of 
Yorkshire,  in  order  to  amuse  my  mind  with  the  diversions  and 
company  of  the  place.  It  is  a  small  straggling  village  on  a  heath 
two  miles  from  Knaresborough,  which  is  thirteen  miles  from 
York,  and  one  hundred  and  seventy-five  from  London.  The 
sulphur  wells  are  three,  on  the  north  side  of  the  town,  about 
five  hundred  yards  east  of  the  bog.  They  rise  out  of  a  little 
dry  hill.  The  second  is  a  yard  from  the  first,  and  the  third  is 
five  yards  and  a  half  from  the  second.  The  water  rises  into 
stone-basins,  which  are  each  inclosed  in  a  small  neat  building 

*  The  author  of  John  Buncle,  junior,  printed  in  1776,  a  second  volume  of  which  appeared 
n  1778,  endeavours  to  exculpate  himself  and  brethren  from  this  concise  but  severe  satire 
which  the  author  has  passed  upon  his  children,  by  observing  that  being  already  stamped 
with  the  character  of  a  fool,  and  consequently  no  character  to  lose,  he  with  more  boldness 
published  those  letters,  as  the  only  chance  left  him,  by  which  he  might  gain  the  good  opinion 
of  the  reader,  and  as  a  means  of  wiping  off  the  reproach  their  dear  father  had  entailed  upon 
them.  Anecdotes  of  John  Buncle,  junior,  vol.  i.  p.  72. 


286  THE  LIFE  OF 


of  stone  and  lime  a  yard  square  on  the  insides,  and  two  yards  high, 
covered  over  with  thick  flagstones  laid  in  a  shelving  direction. 

The  soil  out  of  which  these  springs  rise  is  first,  corn- mould,  then 
a  marie  lime-stone,  and  a  stratum  of  plaster  :  the  lime-stonejis 
so  abraded  by  the  salt  in  the  water,  that  when  dried,  it  swimsl: 
and  where  the  water  stagnates  between  the  basins  and  the  brook, 
the  earth  is  ink  black,  and  has  a  dry  white  scum,  which  smells 
like  sulphur,  and  burns  with  a  blue  flame.  The  water  does 
likewise  throw  up  much  candied  sea  salts,  that  is,  salts  to  which 
sulphur  adheres,  and  the  pigeons  resort  from  all  parts  to  pick 
them  up.  In  moist  or  rainy  weather,  these  waters  send  forth  a 
strong  smell  at  a  distance,  and  before  rain,  they  bubble  up  with 
an  impetuous  force  ;  yet  neither  rain  nor  drought  increases  or 
decreases  the  springs. 

From  the  large  quantities  of  fine  flower  of  brimstone  which 
these  waters  throw  off,  it  is  plain,  that  sulphur  is  the  principal 
thing  in  them  ;  but  experiment  likewise  proves,  that  besides 
sulphur,  the  stinking  well  has  vitriol,  nitre,  copper,  and  salt. 
These  lie  in  solutis  principiis  in  earth  from  which  the  water  comes, 
and  may  be  separated  by  operation  ;  some,  I  know,  deny  there 
is  any  copper  in  these  waters  ;  but  they  do  not  consider  that  the 
glittering  glebes  of  a  gold  colour  found  here,  can  be  nothing 
else  than  glebes  gilt  with  copper. 

As  to  the  diseases  wherein  this  strong  sulphur  water  is  proper, 
it  is  good  for  everything,  except  a  consumption.  For  this  I 
recommend  the  Scarborough  purging  chalybeate  above  all 
waters.  But  if,  reader,  you  have  obstructions  in  your  liver  and 
other  viscera,  and  are  tormented  with  vicious  humours  in  your 
intestines  ;  if  your  bowels  are  full  of  worms,  the  ascarides,  or 
the  broad  round  worm,  or  the  worms  called  the  dog  and  the  wolf, 
from  their  likeness  to  these  animals  ;  or  if,  from  a  venereal  cause, 
the  malady  of  many  a  priest  and  layman,  you  have  an  ulcer 
in  the  anus,  or  in  the  neck  of  your  bladder,  go  to  Harrogate, 
drink  the  stinking- water ,  live  temperate,  and  you  will  be  cured. 
For  the  scurvy,  that  universal  disease,  it  is  better  than  all  other 
medicines.  It  is  excellent  in  the  jaundice,  though  of  many  years 
standing.  It  cures  the  asthma,  the  scotomia,  and  palsy,  and  in 
many  other  deplorable  cases  gives  wonderful  relief.  Whatever 
ails  you,  consumption  excepted,  fly  to  Harrogate,  and  the  water 
will  do  you  good,  if  your  hour  be  not  come  :  and  if  you  are  well, 
the  waters  will  promote  long  life,  and  make  you  the  more  able 
to  dance  with  the  ladies. 

Four  pints  of  water  are  enough  for  a  patient,  to  be  taken 
from  half  an  hour  to  two  hours  after  sunrising,  upon  an  empty 
stomach.  You  should  take  some  preparatory  medicine  ;  and 
walk  drinking  the  waters  to  warm  the  body  a  little,  and  make 
the  passage  the  easier.  Some  people  I  have  known  drink  their 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  287 

dose  in  bed,  and  it  does  well  enough  :  but  exercise  and  the  thin 
open  air  do  better,  and  contribute  not  a  little  to  the  patient's 
recovery  ;  and  there  is  no  finer  fresher  air  in  England  than  at 
this  place. 

In  short,  these  wells  are  the  strongest  sulphur  water  in  Great 
Britain,  and,  from  the  superior  strength  of  the  impregnating 
sulphur,  it  does  not  lose  but  retain  the  sulphureous  smell,  even 
when  exposed  to  a  scalding,  and  almost  a  violent  heat ;  and,  in 
distilling  it,  when  three  pints  had  been  taken  off  from  a  gallon 
of  it,  the  last  was  as  strong  as  the  first,  and  stunk  intolerably. 

Make  haste  then  to  Harrogate,  if  you  are  sick,  and  have  money, 
and  in  all  probability  you  will  find  the  waters  efficacious,  unless 
thy  distemper  be  a  consumption,  or  in  its  nature  incurable, 
which  is  the  case  of  many,  as  death  is  the  common  fate  of  man- 
kind. 

But  when  you  are  there,  let  me  advise  you  to  exercise  as  much 
as  you  can  bear,  without  fatiguing  yourself ;  and  in  the  next 
place,  to  be  regular  in  meats  and  drinks,  and  as  temperate  as 
possible.  Without  these  things,  you  will  lose  the  benefit  of  the 
waters.  No  good  can  be  expected,  if  men  will  indulge  during 
a  course  of  drinking  the  spa,  and  be  not  only  excessive  in  quantity, 
but  indiscreet  as  to  the  quality,  of  meats  and  liquors. 

I  have  known  some  worn-out  hard  drinkers  come  to  the  Wells 
for  relief,  and  at  the  same  time  increase  by  intemperance  what 
they  had  contracted  by  the  same  measure.  I  have  likewise  seen 
some  in  a  diabetes  drink  white  wine  ;  in  a  cachexy,  ale  ;  in  the 
stone  and  gravel,  claret.  I  have  known  a  man  in  a  dropsy,  eat 
nothing  but  cooling,  insipid,  mucilaginous  foods,  and  drink  malt- 
drink  plentifully ;  a  man  in  a  jaundice,  eat  nothing  but  flesh 
meat  and  claret ;  in  a  scurvy  prefer  the  pungent,  saline  diet  ; 
in  obstinate  obstructions,  and  a  chronic  hyppo,  feed  on  thicken- 
ing, hardening,  and  drying  meats  ;  and  in  a  hectic,  vomiting,  and 
spitting  of  blood,  chuse  only  such  things  as  increase  the  blood's 
momentum  and  velocity.  I  have  known  some  gentlemen,  who 
sat  up  late,  never  exercised,  could  not  eat  a  dinner,  and  therefore 
would  indulge  in  a  flesh  supper.  All  these,  and  many  other 
irregularities,  have  I  known  expect  surprising  effects  from  the 
waters,  and  when  they  received  no  benefits  say,  there  were  no 
sanative  principles  in  them.  Unreasonable,  unhappy  men  ! 
Be  temperate  and  regular,  use  exercise,  and  keep  the  passions 
within  bounds,  and  you  may  expect  very  astonishing  cures  ; 
provided  your  bodies  are  not  become  irreparable,  and  no  longer 
tenantable  ;  your  juices  not  to  the  last  degree  glutinous  and 
acrimonious,  and  the  corrosiveness  of  your  blood  not  bringing 
on  mortifications ;  nor  inflammations,  filling,  dilating,  and 
breaking  your  vessels  into  suppuration  and  putrefactions.  Then, 
live  how  you  will,  the  waters  can  be  of  no  use.  You  must  pay 


288  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  debt  of  nature  by  an  incurable  disease.  Neither  mineral 
waters,  nor  physic,  can  create  and  enliven  new  bodies,  or  make 
and  adapt  particular  members  to  the  old.  But  if  you  are  only 
hurt  a  little,  and  the  disease  is  curable,  the  waters  will  certainly 
be  efficacious,  and  recover  you,  if  you  use  moderate  exercise, 
riding  especially,  diversion,  a  strict  regularity,  and  great  temper- 
ance. 

O  temperance  !  Divine  temperance  :  Thou  art  the  support 
of  the  other  virtues,  the  preserver  and  restorer  of  health,  and  the 
protracter  of  life  !  Thou  art  the  maintainer  of  the  dignity  and 
liberty  of  rational  beings,  from  the  wretched  inhuman  slavery 
of  sensuality,  taste,  custom,  and  example  ;  and  the  brightener 
of  the  understanding  and  memory  !  Thou  art  the  sweetener 
of  life  and  all  its  comforts,  the  companion  of  reason,  and  guard 
of  the  passions  !  Thou  art  the  bountiful  rewarder  of  thy  ad- 
mirers and  followers,  thine  enemies  praise  thee,  and  thy  friends 
with  rapturous  pleasure  raise  up  a  panegyric  in  thy  praise. 

O  hunger,  hunger,  immortal  hunger  !  Thou  art  the  blessing 
of  the  poor,  the  regale  of  the  temperate  rich,  and  the  delicious 
gust  of  the  plainest  morsel.  Cursed  is  the  man  that  has  turned 
thee  out  of  doors,  and  at  whose  table  thou  art  a  stranger  1 
Yea  thrice  cursed  is  he,  who  always  thirsts,  and  hungers  no 
more ! 

As  to  the  company  at  these  wells,  I  found  it  very  good,  and 
was  pleased  with  the  manner  of  living  there.  In  the  day-time 
we  drank  the  waters,  walked  or  rode  about,  and  lived  in  separate 
parties  ;  lodging  in  one  or  other  of  the  three  inns  that  are  on 
the  edge  of  the  common  ;  but  at  night,  the  company  meet  at 
one  of  the  public-houses,  the  inns  having  the  benefit  of  the 
meeting  in  their  turn,  and  supped  together  between  eight  and 
nine  o'clock  on  the  best  substantial  things,  such  as  hot  shoulders 
of  mutton,  rump  steaks,  hot  pigeon  pies,  veal-cutlets,  and  the 
like.  For  this  supper,  ladies  and  gentlemen  pay  eight-pence 
each,  and  after  sitting  an  hour,  and  drinking  what  wine,  punch, 
and  ale,  every  one  chuses,  all  who  please  get  up  to  country- 
dances,  which  generally  last  till  one  in  the  morning ;  those  that 
dance,  and  those  who  do  not,  drinking  as  they  will.  The  ladies 
pay  nothing  for  what  liquor  is  brought  in,  either  at  supper  or 
after,  and  it  costs  the  gentlemen  five  or  six  shillings  a  man.  At 
one  the  ladies  withdraw,  some  to  their  houses  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, and  some  to  their  beds  in  the  inns.  The  men  who  are 
temperate,  do  then  likewise  go  to  rest. 

In  short,  of  all  the  wells  I  know,  Harrogate  is  in  my  opinion 
the  most  charming.  The  waters  are  incomparable,  no  air  can  be 
better ;  and  with  the  greatest  civility,  cheerfulness,  and  good 
humour,  there  is  a  certain  rural  plainness  and  freedom  mixed, 
which  are  vastly  pleasing.  The  lady  of  pleasure,  the  well- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  289 

drest  tailor,  and  the  gamester,  are  not  to  be  found  there. 
Gentlemen  of  the  country,  and  women  of  birth  and  fortune,  their 
wives,  sisters,  and  daughters,  are  for  the  most  part  the  company. 
There  were  at  least  fourscore  ladies  in  the  country-dances 
every  night  while  I  was  there,  and  among  them  many  fine 
women. 

Among  the  company  I  found  at  this  agreeable  place,  were  six 
Irish  gentlemen,  who  had  been  my  contemporaries  in  Trinity- 
College,  Dublin,  and  were  right  glad  to  see  me,  as  we  had  been 
Sociorums,*  at  the  conniving-house  at  Ringsend,  for  many  a 
summer's  evening,  and  their  regard  for  me  was  great.  They 
thought  I  had  been  long  numbered  with  the  dead,  as  they  could 
not  get  any  account  of  me  for  so  many  years  ;  and  when  they 
saw  me,  on  their  entering  the  public  room,  sitting  by  a  beauty, 
in  deep  discourse,  "  God-zounds,"  said  one  of  them,  "  there  he 
is,  making  love  to  the  finest  woman  in  the  world."  These 
gentlemen  were  MR.  GOLLOGHER,  MR.  GALLASPY,  MR.  DUNKLEY, 
MR.  MAKINS,  MR.  MONAGHAN,  and  MR.  O'KEEFE,  who  was 
descended  from  the  Irish  kings,  and  first  cousin  to  the  great 
O'Keefe,  who  was  buried  not  long  ago  in  Westminster  Abbey. 
They  were  all  men  of  large  fortunes,  and,  MAKINS  excepted, 
were  as  handsome  fine  fellows  as  could  be  picked  out  in  all  the 
world.  MAKINS  was  a  very  low,  thin  man,  not  four  feet  high, 
and  had  but  one  eye,  with  which  he  squinted  most  shockingly.  He 
wore  his  own  hair,  which  was  short  and  bad,  and  only  drest  by 
his  combing  it  himself  in  the  morning,  without  oil  or  powder. 
But  as  he  was  matchless  on  the  fiddle,  sung  well,  and  chatted 
agreeably,  he  was  a  favourite  with  the  ladies.  They  preferred 
ugly  MAKINS,  as  he  was  called,  to  many  very  handsome  men.  I 
will  here  give  the  public  the  character  of  these  Irish  gentlemen, 
for  the  honour  of  Ireland,  and  as  they  were  curiosities  of  the 
human  kind. 

O'KEEFE  was  as  distinguished  a  character  as  I  have  ever  known. 
He  had  read  and  thought,  travelled  and  conversed,  was  a  man  of 
sense,  and  a  scholar.  He  had  a  greatness  of  soul,  which  shewed 
a  pre-eminence  of  dignity,  and  by  conduct  and  behaviour,  the 
faithful  interpreters  of  the  heart,  always  attested  the  noblest 
and  most  generous  sentiments.  He  had  an  extreme  abhorrence 
of  meanness,  treachery,  revenge,  envy,  littleness  of  mind,  and 
shewed  in  all  his  actions  the  qualities  that  adorn  a  man.  His 
learning  was  of  the  genteel  and  most  useful  kind,  a  sort  of  agree- 
able knowledge,  which  he  acquired  rather  from  a  sound  taste  and 
good  judgment  than  from  the  books  he  had  read.  He  had  a 
right  estimation  of  things,  and  had  gathered  up  almost  every 
thing  amusing  or  instructive.  This  rendered  him  a  master  in 
the  art  of  pleasing,  and  as  he  had  added  to  these  improvements 

*  A  phrase  used  by  "Swift. 

L 


290  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  fashionable  ornaments  of  life,  languages  and  bodily  exercises, 
he  was  the  delight  of  all  that  knew  him. 

MAKINS  was  possessed  of  all  the  excellent  qualities  and  per- 
fections that  are  within  the  reach  of  human  abilities.  He  had 
received  from  nature  the  happiest  talents,  and  he  had  singularly 
improved  them  by  a  successful  application  to  the  most  useful 
and  most  ornamental  studies.  Music,  as  before  observed,  he 
excelled  in.  His  intellectual  faculties  were  fine,  and,  to  his 
honour  I  can  affirm,  that  he  mostly  employed  them,  as  he  did 
his  great  estate,  to  the  good  of  mankind,  the  advancement  of 
morality,  and  the  spread  of  pure  theism,  the  worship  of  God 
our  Saviour,  who  raised  and  sent  Christ  to  be  a  Redeemer.  This 
gentleman  was  a  zealous  Unitarian,  and,  though  but  five  and 
twenty,  when  we  met  at  Harrogate,  he  was  a  religious  man  ; 
but  his  religion  was  without  any  melancholy,  nor  had  it  any 
thing  of  that  severity  of  temper,  which  diffuses  too  often  into  the 
hearts  of  the  religious  a  morose  contempt  of  the  world,  and  an 
antipathy  to  the  pleasures  of  it.  He  avoided  the  assemblies  of 
fools,  knaves,  and  blockheads,  but  was  fond  of  good  company, 
and  condemned  that  doctrine  which  taught  men  to  retire  from 
human  society  to  seek  God  in  the  horrors  of  solitude.  He  thought 
the  Almighty  may  be  best  found  among  men,  where  his  goodness 
is  most  active,  and  his  providence  most  employed. 

GALLASPY  was  the  tallest  and  strongest  man  I  have  ever  seen, 
well  made,  and  very  handsome.  He  had  wit  and  abilities,  sung 
well,  and  talked  with  great  sweetness  and  fluency,  but  was  so 
extremely  wicked,  that  it  were  better  for  him  he  had  been  a 
natural  fool.  By  his  vast  strength  and  activity,  his  riches  and 
eloquence,  few  things  could  withstand  him.  He  was  the  most 
profane  swearer  I  have  known,  fought  everything,  whored  every- 
thing, and  drank  seven  in  a  hand  ;  that  is,  seven  glasses  so 
placed  between  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand,  that  in  drinking,  the 
liquor  fell  into  the  next  glasses,  and  thereby  he  drank  out  of 
the  first  glass  seven  glasses  at  once.  This  was  a  common  thing, 
I  find  from  a  book  in  my  possession,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
Second,  in  the  madness  that  followed  the  restoration  of  that 
profligate  and  worthless  prince.  But  this  gentleman  was  the 
only  man  I  ever  saw  who  could  or  would  attempt  to  do  it,  and  he 
made  but  one  gulp  of  whatever  he  drank  ;  he  did  not  swallow 
a  fluid  like  other  people,  but  if  it  was  a  quart,  poured  it  in  as 
from  pitcher  to  pitcher.  When  he  smoked  tobacco,  he  always 
blew  two  pipes  at  once,  one  at  each  corner  of  his  mouth,  and 
threw  the  smoke  of  both  out  of  his  nostrils.  He  had  killed  two 
men  in  duels  before  I  left  Ireland,  and  would  have  been  hanged, 
but  that  it  was  his  good  fortune  to  be  tried  before  a  judge,  the 
late  Sir  John  St.  Leger,  who  never  let  any  man  suffer  for  killing 
another  in  this  manner.  He  debauched  all  the  women  he  could, 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ. 


and  many  whom  he  could  not  corrupt,  he  ravished.  I  went  with 
him  once  in  the  stage-coach  to  Kilkenny,  and  seeing  two  pretty 
ladies  pass  by  in  their  own  chariot,  he  swore  in  his  horrible  way, 
having  drank  very  hard  after  dinner,  that  he  would  immediately 
stop  them,  and  ravish  them  ;  nor  was  it  without  great  difficulty 
that  I  hindered  him  from  attempting  the  thing,  by  assuring  him 
I  would  be  their  protector,  and  he  must  pass  through  my  heart 
before  he  could  proceed  to  offer  them  the  least  rudeness.  In 
sum,  I  never  saw  his  equal  in  impiety,  especially  when  inflamed 
with  liquor,  as  he  was  every  day  of  his  life,  though  it  was  not  in 
the  power  of  wine  to  make  him  drunk,  weak,  or  senseless.  He 
set  no  bounds  or  restrictions  to  mirth  and  revels.  He  only 
slept  every  third  night,  and  that  often  in  his  clothes  in  a  chair, 
where  he  would  sweat  so  prodigiously  as  to  be  wet  quite  through, 
as  if  come  from  a  pond,  or  that  a  pail  of  water  had  been  thrown 
on  him.  While  all  the  world  was  at  rest,  he  was  either  drinking 
or  dancing,  scouring  the  bawdy-houses,  or  riding  as  hard  as  he 
could  drive  his  horse  on  some  iniquitous  project.  And  yet  he 
never  was  sick,  nor  did  he  ever  receive  any  hurt  or  mischief.  In 
health,  joy,  and  plenty,  he  passed  life  away,  and  died  about  a 
year  ago  at  his  house  in  the  county  of  Galway,  without  a  pang, 
or  any  kind  of  pain.  This  was  JACK  GALLASPY.  There 
are,  however,  some  things  to  be  said  in  his  favour;  and  as 
he  had  more  regard  for  me  than  any  of  his  acquaintance,  I 
should  be  ungrateful  if  I  did  not  do  him  all  the  justice  in  my 
power. 

He  was  in  the  first  place  far  from  being  quarrelsome,  and  if 
he  fought  a  gentleman  at  the  small-sword,  or  boxed  with  a 
porter  or  coachman,  it  was  because  he  had  in  some  degree  been 
ill  used,  or  fancied  that  the  laws  of  honour  required  him  to  call  an 
equal  to  an  account,  for  a  transaction.  His  temper  was  naturally 
amicable. 

In  the  next  place,  he  was  the  most  generous  of  mankind.  His 
purse  of  gold  was  ever  at  his  friend's  service,  was  kind  and  good 
to  his  tenants,  and  to  the  poor  a  very  great  benefactor.  He 
would  give  more  money  away  to  the  sick  and  distressed  in  one 
year,  than  I  believe  many  rich  and  pious  people  do  in  seven. 
He  had  the  blessings  of  thousands,  for  his  charities,  and,  perhaps 
this  procured  him  the  protection  of  Heaven. 

As  to  swearing,  he  thought  it  was  only  criminal,  when  it  was 
false,  or  men  lied  in  their  affirmations  ;  and  for  whoring,  he 
hoped  there  would  be  mercy,  since  men  will  be  men  while  there 
are  women.  Ravishing  he  did  not  pretend  to  justify,  as  the 
laws  of  his  country  were  against  it  ;  but  he  could  not  think 
the  woman  was  a  sufferer  by  it,  as  she  enjoyed  without  sinning  the 
highest  felicity.  He  intended  her  happiness  ;  and  her  saying 
No,  kept  her  an  innocent. 


292  THE  LIFE  OF 


How  far  all  this  can  excuse  JACK  GALLASPY,  I  pretended 
not  to  determine  :  but  as  I  thought  it  proper  to  give  the 
world  the  picture  of  so  extraordinary  a  man,  it  was  incumbent 
on  me,  as  his  friend,  to  say  all  I  could,  with  truth,  in  his  vin- 
dication. 

DUNKLEY  had  an  extensive  capacity,  an  exquisite  taste,  and 
fine  genius.  Besides  an  erudition  which  denominates  what  we 
call  a  man  of  learning,  he  happily  possessed  a  social  knowledge 
which  rendered  him  agreeable  to  everybody.  He  was  one  of 
the  men  that  are  capable  of  touching  every  note.  To  all  the 
variety  of  topics  for  conversation,  the  diversity  of  occurrences 
and  incidents,  the  several  distinctions  of  persons,  he  could  adapt 
himself.  He  would  laugh  like  Democritus,  and  weep  like 
Heraclitus.  He  had  the  short,  pert  trip  of  the  affected  ;  the 
haughty,  tragic  stalk  of  the  solemn  ;  and  the  free,  genteel  gait 
of  the  fine  gentleman.  He  was  qualified  to  please  all  tastes,  and 
capable  of  acting  every  part.  He  was  grave,  gay,  a  philosopher 
and  a  trifler.  He  had  a  time  for  all  things,  relative  to  society, 
and  his  own  true  happiness,  but  none  for  anything  repugnant 
to  honour  and  conscience.  He  was  a  surprising  and  admirable 
man. 

MONAGHAN  had  genius  and  knowledge,  had  read  many  books, 
but  knew  more  of  mankind.  He  laughed  at  those  men  who  lose 
among  their  books  the  elegancy  of  mind  so  necessary  in  civil 
society.  He  had  no  relish  but  for  nice  studies  and  fine  literature, 
and  despised  the  too  serious  and  abstruse  sciences.  This  was 
reckoned  a  fault  in  him  by  several  judges,  but  with  me  it  is  a 
quere,  if  he  was  much  to  blame.  Politeness  is  certainly  pre- 
ferable to  dry  knowledge  and  thorny  inquiries.  This  gentle- 
man's was  such  as  rendered  him  for  ever  agreeable  and  engaging. 
He  was  continually  an  improving  friend,  and  a  gay  companion. 
In  the  qualities  of  his  soul,  he  was  generous  without  prodigality, 
humane  without  weakness,  just  without  severity,  and  fond 
without  folly.  He  was  an  honest  and  charming  fellow.  MONA- 
GHAN and  DUNKLEY  married  ladies  they  fell  in  love  with  at 
Harrogate  Wells.  DUNKLEY  had  the  fair  ALCMENA,  Miss  Cox 
of  Northumberland ;  and  MONAGHAN,  ANTIOPE  with  haughty 
charms,  Miss  Pearson  of  Cumberland.  They  lived  very  happy 
many  years,  and  their  children  I  hear  are  settled  in  Ire- 
land. 

GOLLOGHER  was  a  man  of  learning  and  extraordinary  abilities. 
He  had  read  very  hard  for  several  years,  and  during  that  time, 
had  collected  and  extracted  from  the  best  books  more  than  any 
man  I  ever  was  acquainted  with.  He  had  four  vast  volumes 
of  common-place,  royal  paper,  bound  in  rough  calf,  and  half 
filled  them  with  what  is  most  curious  and  beautiful  in  works 
of  literature,  most  refined  in  eloquent  discourses,  most  poignant 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  293 

in  books  of  criticism,  most  instructive  in  history,  most  touching 
and  affecting  in  news,  catastrophes,  and  stories ;  and  with 
aphorisms,  sayings,  and  epigrams.  A  prodigious  memory  made 
all  this  his  own,  and  a  great  judgment  enabled  him  to  reduce 
everything  to  the  most  exact  point  of  truth  and  accuracy.  A 
rare  man  !  Till  he  was  five  and  twenty,  he  continued  this 
studious  life,  and  but  seldom  went  into  the  mixed  and  fashionable 
circles  of  the  world.  Then,  all  at  once,  he  sold  every  book  he 
had,  and  determined  to  read  no  more.  He  spent  his  every  day 
in  the  best  company  of  every  kind ;  and  as  he  had  the  happy 
talent  of  manner,  and  possessed  that  great  power  which  strikes 
and  awakens  fancy,  by  giving  every  subject  the  new  dress  and 
decoration  it  requires  ;  could  make  the  most  common  thing 
no  longer  trivial,  when  in  his  hand,  and  render  a  good  thing  most 
exquisitely  pleasing.  As  he  told  a  story  beyond  most  men, 
and  had,  in  short,  a  universal  means  towards  a  universal  success, 
it  was  but  natural  that  he  should  be  everywhere  liked  and  wished 
for.  He  charmed  wherever  he  came.  The  specific  I  have  men- 
tioned made  every  one  fond  of  him.  With  the  ladies  especially 
he  was  a  great  favourite,  and  more  fortunate  in  his  amours  than 
any  man  I  knew.  Had  he  wanted  the  fine  talents  he  was  blest 
with,  his  being  an  extremely  handsome  man,  and  a  master  on 
the  fiddle,  could  not  but  recommend  him  to  the  sex.  He  might, 
if  he  had  pleased,  have  married  any  one  of  the  most  illustrious 
and  richest  women  in  the  kingdom.  But  he  had  an  aversion 
to  matrimony,  and  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  a  wife.  Love 
and  a  bottle  were  h  is  taste.  He  was  however  the  most  honour- 
able of  men  in  his  amours,  and  never  abandoned  any  woman  to 
distress,  as  too  many  men  of  fortune  do,  when  they  have  gratified 
desire.  All  the  distressed  were  ever  sharers  in  GOLLOGHER'S 
fine  estate,  and  especially  the  girls  he  had  taken  to  his  breast. 
He  provided  happily  for  them  all,  and  left  nineteen  daughters 
he  had  by  several  women  a  thousand  pounds  each.  This 
was  acting  with  a  temper  worthy  of  a  man  ;  and  to  the  memory 
of  the  benevolent  TOM  GOLLOGHER  I  devote  this  memoran- 
dum. 

Having  said  above,  that  too  many  men  of  fortune  abandon  the 
girls  they  have  ruined,  I  will  here  relate  a  very  remarkable  story, 
in  hopes  it  may  make  an  impression  on  some  rake  of  fortune,  if 
such  a  man  should  ever  take  this  book  in  his  hand. 

Travelling  once  in  the  summer-time,  in  the  county  of  Kildare 
in  Ireland,  I  came  into  a  land  of  flowers,  and  blossoms,  hills, 
woods,  and  shades  ;  where  I  saw  upon  an  eminence  a  house,  sur- 
rounded with  the  most  agreeable  images  of  rural  beauties,  and 
which  appeared  to  be  placed  on  purpose  in  that  decorated  spot 
for  retirement  and  contemplation.  It  is  in  such  silent  recesses 
of  life,  that  we  can  best  enjoy  the  noble  and  felicitous  ideas, 


294  THE  LIFE  OF 


which  more  immediately  concern  the  attention  of  man,  and 
in  the  cool  hours  of  reflection,  secreted  from  the  fancies  and 
follies,  the  business,  the  faction,  and  the  pleasures  of  an  engaged 
world,  thoroughly  consider  the  wisdom  and  harmony  of  the 
works  of  nature,  the  important  purposes  of  providence,  and  the 
various  reasons  we  have  to  adore  that  ever-glorious  Being,  who 
formed  us  for  rational  happiness  here,  and  after  we  have  passed 
a  few  years  on  this  sphere,  in  a  life  of  virtue  and  charity,  to  trans- 
late us  to  the  realms  of  endless  bliss.  Happy  they  who  have  a 
taste  for  these  silent  retreats,  and  when  they  please,  can  with- 
draw for  a  time  from  the  world. 

The  owner  of  this  sweet  place  was  CHARLES  HUNT,  a  gentleman 
of  a  small  estate  and  good  sense,  whom  I  knew  many  years  be- 
fore fortune  led  me  to  his  house.  His  wife  was  then  dead,  and  he 
had  but  one  child  left,  his  daughter  ELIZABETH.  The  beauties 
of  this  young  lady  were  very  extraordinary.  She  had  the  finest 
eyes  in  the  world,  she  looked,  she  smiled,  and  she  talked  with 
such  diffusive  charms,  as  were  sufficient  to  fire  the  heart  of  the 
most  morose  woman-hater  that  ever  lived,  and  give  his  soul  a 
softness  it  never  felt  before.  Her  father  took  all  possible  pains 
to  educate  her  mind,  and  had  the  success  to  render  her  under- 
standing a  wonder,  when  she  was  but  twenty  years  old.  She 
sung  likewise  beyond  most  women,  danced  to  perfection,  and 
had  every  accomplishment  of  soul  and  body  that  a  man  of  the 
best  taste  could  wish  for  in  a  wife  or  a  mistress.  She  was  all 
beauty,  life,  and  softness. 

Mr.  HUNT  thought  to  have  had  great  happiness  in  this  daughter, 
though  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  give  her  more  than  five  hun- 
dred pounds  for  a  fortune,  and  she  would  have  been  married  to 
a  country-gentleman  in  his  neighbourhood  of  a  good  estate, 
had  not  death  carried  off  both  her  father  and  lover  in  a  few  days, 
just  as  the  match  was  agreed  on.  This  was  a  sad  misfortune, 
and  produced  a  long  train  of  sorrows.  For  two  years  however 
after  the  decease  of  her  father,  she  lived  very  happily  with  an 
old  lady,  her  near  relation,  and  was  universally  admired  and 
respected.  I  saw  her  many  times  during  that  term,  at  the  old 
lady's  villa  within  a  few  miles  of  Dublin,  and  took  great  delight 
in  her  company.  If  I  had  not  been  then  engaged  to  another, 
I  would  most  certainly  have  married  her. 

In  this  way  I  left  ELIZA,  in  Ireland,  and  for  several  years  could 
not  hear  what  was  become  of  her.  No  one  could  give  me  any 
information  :  but,  about  a  twelvemonth  ago,  as  I  was  walking  in 
Fleet  Street,  I  saw  a  woman  who  cleaned  shoes,  and  seemed  to  be 
an  object  of  great  distress.  She  was  in  rags  and  dirt  beyond  all 
I  had  ever  seen  of  the  profession,  and  was  truly  skin  and  bone. 
Her  face  was  almost  a  skull,  and  the  only  remaining  expression 
to  be  seen  was  despair  and  anguish.  The  object  engaged  my 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  29$ 

attention,  not  only  on  account  of  the  uncommon  misery  that 
was  visible  ;  but,  as  her  eyes,  though  sunk,  were  still  extraor- 
dinary, and  there  were  some  remains  of  beauty  to  be  traced.  I 
thought  I  had  somewhere  seen  that  face  in  better  condition. 
This  kept  me  looking  at  her,  unnoticed,  for  near  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  ;  and  as  I  found  she  turned  her  head  from  me,  when  she 
saw  me,  with  a  kind  of  consciousness,  as  if  she  knew  me,  I  then 
asked  her  name,  and  if  she  had  any  where  seen  me  before  ?  The 
tears  immediately  ran  plentifully  from  her  eyes,  and  when  she 
could  speak,  she  said,  I  am  ELIZABETH  HUNT.  What,  Mr.  HUNT'S 
daughter  of  Rafarlin  ?  I  replied  with  amazement,  and  a  con- 
cern that  brought  the  tears  into  my  eyes.  I  called  a  coach 
immediately,  and  took  her  to  the  house  of  a  good  woman, 
who  lodges  and  attends  sick  people,  ordered  her  clean  clothes, 
and  gave  the  woman  a  charge  to  take  the  greatest  care  of 
her,  and  let  her  want  for  nothing  proper,  till  I  called  next 
day. 

When  I  saw  her  again,  she  was  clean  and  whole,  and  seemed 
to  have  recovered  a  little,  though  very  little,  of  what  she  once 
was  ;  for  a  more  miserable  spectacle  my  eyes  have  not  often  seen. 
She  told  me,  that  soon  after  I  went  to  England,  Mr.  R.  a  gentle- 
man of  my  acquaintance  of  great  fortune,  got  acquainted  with 
her,  courted  her,  and  swore  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  by  the 
supreme  power,  and  the  everlasting  gospel,  that  he  would  be  her 
husband,  and  marry  her  as  soon  as  a  rich  dying  uncle  had  breathed 
his  last,  if  she  would  consent,  in  the  mean  while,  to  their  living 
in  secret  as  man  and  wife  ;  for  his  uncle  hated  matrimony,  and 
would  not  leave  him  his  vast  fortune,  if  he  heard  he  had  a  wife  ; 
and  he  was  sure,  if  he  was  married  by  any  of  the  Church,  some 
whisperer  would  find  it  out,  and  bring  it  to  his  ear.  But  not- 
withstanding this  plausible  story,  and  that  he  acted  the  part  of 
the  fondest  and  tenderest  man  that  ever  lived,  yet,  for  several 
months,  she  would  not  comply  with  his  proposal.  She  refused 
to  see  him  any  more,  and  for  several  weeks  he  did  not  come  in 
her  sight. 

The  fatal  night  however  at  last  arrived,  and  from  the  Lord 
Mayor's  ball,  he  prevailed  on  her,  by  repeated  vows  of  sincerity 
and  truth,  to  come  with  him  to  his  lodgings.  She  was  undone, 
with  child,  and  at  the  end  of  two  months,  she  never  saw  him 
more.  When  her  relations  saw  her  big  belly,  they  turned  her 
out  of  doors  ;  her  friends  and  acquaintances  would  not  look  at  her, 
and  she  was  so  despised,  and  ashamed  to  be  seen,  that  she  went 
to  England  with  her  little  one.  It  fortunately  died  on  the  road 
to  London,  and  as  her  five  hundred  pounds  were  going  fast  by 
the  time  she  had  been  a  year  in  the  capital,  she  accepted  an  offer 
made  her  by  a  great  man  to  go  into  keeping.  Three  years  she 
lived  with  him  in  splendour,  and  when  he  died,  she  was  with 


296  THE  LIFE  OF 


several  in  high  life,  till  she  got  a  cancer  in  her  breast ;  and  after 
it  was  cut  off,  an  incurable  abscess  appeared.  This  struck  her 
out  of  society,  and  as  she  grew  worse  and  worse  every  day,  the 
little  money  she  had,  and  her  clothes,  were  all  gone  in  four  years' 
time,  in  the  relief  she  wanted  and  in  support.  She  came  the 
fifth  year  to  a  garret  and  rags,  and  at  last,  to  clean  shoes,  or  perish 
for  want.  She  then  uncovered  the  upper  part  of  her  body, 
which  was  half  eaten  away,  so  as  to  see  into  the  trunk,  and  ren- 
dered her,  in  the  emaciated  condition  she  was  in,  an  object  shock- 
ing to  behold.  She  lived  in  torment,  and  had  no  kind  of  ease 
or  peace  but  in  reflecting,  that  her  misery  and  distress  might 
procure  her  the  mercy  of  Heaven  hereafter,  and  in  conjunction 
with  her  true  repentance  bring  her  to  rest,  when  she  had  passed 
through  the  grave  and  gate  of  death. 

Such  was  the  case  of  that  Venus  of  her  sex,  Miss  HUNT.  When 
I  first  saw  her,  it  was  rapture  to  be  in  her  company ;  her  person 
matchless,  and  her  conversation  as  charming  as  her  person  ; 
both  easy,  unconstrained,  and  beautiful  to  perfection.  But 
when  I  last  saw  her,  she  was  grim  as  the  skeleton,  horrid,  loath- 
some, and  sinking  fast  into  the  grave  by  the  laws  of  corruption. 
What  a  change  was  there  !  She  lived  but  three  months  from  the 
time  I  put  her  into  a  lodging,  and  died  as  happy  a  penitent  as  she 
had  lived  an  unhappy  woman.  I  gave  her  a  decent  private 
funeral ;  a  hearse,  and  one  mourning-coach,  in  which  I  alone 
attended  her  remains  to  the  earth ;  the  great  charnel-house, 
where  all  the  human  race  must  be  deposited.  Here  ends  the 
story  of  Miss  HUNT. 

And  now  a  word  or  two  to  the  man  who  ruined  her.  BOB  R. 
is  still  living,  the  master  of  thousands,  and  has  thought  no  more 
of  the  wretched  ELIZA,  than  if  her  ruin  and  misery  were  a  trifle. 
He  fancies  his  riches  and  power  will  screen  him  from  the  hand 
of  justice,  and  afford  him  lasting  satisfaction  ;  but,  cruel  man, 
after  this  short  day,  the  present  life,  the  night  of  death  shall 
come,  and  your  unrelenting  soul  must  then  appear  before  a  judge, 
infinitely  knowing  and  righteous  ;  who  is  not  to  be  imposed 
upon,  and  cannot  be  biassed.  The  sighs  and  moans  of  ELIZA 
will  then  be  remembered,  confound  and  abash  you  for  your 
falsehood  and  inhumanity  to  this  unhappy  woman.  In  your 
last  agony,  her  spirit  will  haunt  you,  and  at  the  sessions  of  right- 
eousness appear  against  you,  execrable  R.  R. 

But  to  return  to  Harrogate.  While  I  was  there,  it  was  my 
fortune  to  dance  with  a  lady,  who  had  the  head  of  Aristotle,  the 
heart  of  a  primitive  Christian,  and  the  form  of  Venus  de  Medicis. 
This  was  Miss  SPENCE  of  Westmoreland.  I  was  not  many  hours 
in  her  company,  before  I  became  most  passionately  in  love  with 
her.  I  did  all  I  could  to  win  her  heart,  and  at  last  asked  her  the 
question.  But  before  I  inform  my  readers  what  the  conse- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  297 

quence  of  this  was,  I  must  take  some  notice  of  what  I  expect 
from  the  Critical  Reviewers.  These  gentlemen  will  attempt 
to  raise  the  laugh.  Our  moralist,  they  will  say,  has  buried 
three  wives  running,  and  they  are  hardly  cold  in  their  graves, 
before  he  is  dancing  like  a  buck  at  the  Wells,  and  plighting 
vows  to  a  fourth  girl,  the  beautiful  Miss  SPENCE.  An  honest 
fellow,  this  Suarez,  as  Pascal  says  of  that  Jesuit,  in  his  Provincial 
Letters. 

To  this  I  reply,  that  I  think  it  unreasonable  and  impious  to 
grieve  immoderately  for  the  dead.  A  decent  and  proper  tribute 
of  tears  and  sorrow,  humanity  requires  ;  but  when  that  duty  has 
been  paid,  we  must  remember,  that  to  lament  a  dead  woman  is 
not  to  lament  a  wife.  A  wife  must  be  a  living  woman.  The 
wife  we  lose  by  death  is  no  more  than  a  sad  and  empty  object, 
formed  by  the  imagination,  and  to  be  still  devoted  to  her,  is  to 
be  in  love  with  an  idea.  It  is  a  mere  chimerical  passion,  as  the 
deceased  has  no  more  to  do  with  this  world,  than  if  she  had 
existed  before  the  flood.  As  we  cannot  restore  what  nature 
has  destroyed,  it  is  foolish  to  be  faithful  to  affliction.  Nor  is  this 
all,  if  the  woman  we  marry  has  the  seven  qualifications  which 
every  man  would  wish  to  find  in  a  wife,  beauty,  discretion,  sweet- 
ness of  temper,  a  sprightly  wit,  fertility,  wealth,  and  noble  ex- 
traction, yet  death's  snatching  so  amiable  a  wife  from  our  arms 
can  be  no  reason  for  accusing  fate  of  cruelty,  that  is,  providence 
of  injustice  ;  nor  can  it  authorise  us  to  sink  into  insensibility, 
and  neglect  the  duty  and  business  of  life.  This  wife  was  born  to 
die,  and  we  receive  her  under  the  condition  of  mortality.  She  is 
lent  but  for  a  term,  the  limits  of  which  we  are  not  made  acquainted 
with  ;  and  when  this  term  is  expired,  there  can  be  no  injustice  in 
taking  her  back  :  nor  are  we  to  indulge  the  transports  of  grief 
to  distraction,  but  should  look  out  for  another  with  the  seven 
qualifications,  as  it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,  and  as  he  is 
by  the  Abrahamic  covenant  bound  to  carry  on  the  succession 
in  a  regular  way,  if  it  be  in  his  power.  Nor  is  this  all,  if  the  woman 
adorned  with  every  natural  and  acquired  excellence  is  trans- 
lated from  this  gloomy  planet  to  some  better  world,  to  be  a 
sharer  of  the  divine  favour,  in  that  peaceful  and  happy  state 
which  God  hath  prepared  for  the  virtuous  and  faithful,  must  it 
not  be  senseless  for  me  to  indulge  melancholy  and  continue  a 
mourner  on  her  account,  while  she  is  breathing  the  balmy  air 
of  paradise,  enjoying  pure  and  radiant  vision,  and  beyond 
description  happy  ? 

In  the  next  place,  as  I  had  forfeited  my  father's  favour  and 
estate,  for  the  sake  of  christian-deism,  and  had  nothing  but  my 
own  honest  industry  to  secure  me  daily  bread,  it  was  necessary 
for  me  to  lay  hold  of  every  opportunity  to  improve  my  fortune, 
and  of  consequence  do  my  best  to  gain  the  heart  of  the  first  rich 


298  THE  LIFE  OF 


young  woman  who  came  in  my  way,  after  I  had  buried  a  wife. 
It  was  not  fit  for  me  to  sit  snivelling  for  months,  because  my  wife 
died  before  me,  which  was,  at  least,  as  probable,  as  that  she 
should  be  the  survivor  ;  but  instead  of  solemn  affliction,  and  the 
inconsolable  part,  for  an  event  I  foresaw,  it  was  incumbent  on 
me,  after  a  little  decent  mourning,  to  consecrate  myself  to  virtue 
and  good  fortune  united  in  the  form  of  a  woman.  Whenever 
she  appeared,  it  was  my  business  to  get  her  if  I  could.  This 
made  me  sometimes  a  dancer  at  the  Wells,  in  the  days  of  my 
youth. 

As  to  Miss  SPENCE,  she  was  not  cruel,  but  told  me  at  last,  after 
I  had  tired  her  with  my  addresses  and  petitions,  that  she  would 
consider  my  case,  and  give  me  an  answer,  when  I  called  at  her 
house  in  Westmoreland,  to  which  she  was  then  going  ;  at  present, 
however,  to  tell  me  the  truth,  she  had  very  little  inclination  to 
change  her  condition,  she  was  as  happy  as  she  could  wish  to  be, 
and  she  had  observed  that  many  ladies  of  her  acquaintance  had 
been  made  unhappy  by  becoming  wives.  The  husband  generally 
proves  a  very  different  man  from  the  courtier,  and  it  is  luck 
indeed,  if  a  young  woman,  by  marrying  is  not  undone.  During 
the  mollia  tempora  fandi,  as  the  poet  calls  it,  the  man  may  charm, 
when,  like  the  god  of  eloquence,  he  pleads,  and  every  word  is 
soft  as  flakes  of  falling  snow  ;  but  when  the  man  is  pleased  to 
take  off  the  mask,  and  play  the  domestic  hero  ;  Gods  !  What 
miseries  have  I  seen  in  families  ensue  !  If  this  were  my  case,  I 
should  run  stark  mad. 

Miss  SPENCE 's  mentioning  the  memorable  line  from  Virgil, 
surprised  me  not  a  little,  as  she  never  gave  the  least  hint  before, 
though  we  had  conversed  then  a  fortnight,  of  her  having  any 
notion  of  the  Latin  tongue,  and  I  looked  at  her  with  a  raised  ad- 
miration, before  I  replied  in  the  following  manner.  "  What  you 
say,  Miss  SPENCE,  is  true.  But  this  is  far  from  being  the  case  of 
all  gentlemen.  If  there  be  something  stronger  than  virtue  in 
too  many  of  them,  something  that  masters  and  subdues  it ;  a 
passion,  or  passions,  rebellious  and  lawless,  which  makes  them 
neglect  some  high  relations,  and  take  the  throne  from  God  and 
reason  ;  gaming,  drinking,  keeping  ;  yet  there  are  very  many 
exceptions,  I  am  sure.  I  know  several,  who  have  an  equal 
affection  to  goodness,  and  were  my  acquaintance  in  the  world 
larger  than  it  is,  I  believe  I  could  name  a  large  number,  who 
would  not  prefer  indulgence  to  virtue,  or  resign  her  for  any  con- 
sideration. There  are  men,  madam,  and  young  men,  who  allow 
a  partial  regard  to  rectitude  is  inconsistent  and  absurd,  and  are 
sensible,  it  is  not  certain,  that  there  is  absolutely  nothing  at  all 
in  the  evidences  of  religion  :  that  if  there  was  but  even  a  chance 
for  obtaining  blessings  of  inestimable  worth,  yet  a  chance  for 
eternal  bliss  is  worth  securing,  by  acting  as  the  spotless  holiness 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  299 


of  the  Deity  requires  from  us,  and  the  reason  and  fitness  of  things 
makes  necessary,  in  respect  of  every  kind  of  relation  and  neigh- 
bour. This  is  the  case  of  many  men.  They  are  not  so  generally 
bad  as  you  seem  to  think. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  I  would  ask,  if  there  are  no  unhappy 
marriages  by  the  faults  of  women  ?  Are  all  the  married  ladies 
consistently  and  thoroughly  good,  that  is,  effectually  so  ?  Do 
they  all  yield  themselves  entirely  and  universally  to  the  govern- 
ment of  conscience,  subdue  everything  to  it,  and  conquer  every 
adverse  passion  and  inclination  ?  Has  reason  always  the  sove- 
reignty, and  nothing  wrong  to  be  seen  ?  Are  truth,  piety,  and 
goodness,  the  settled  prevailing  regard  in  the  hearts  and  lives 
of  all  the  married  ladies  you  know  ?  Have  you  heard  of  no 
unhappy  marriages  by  the  passions  and  vices  of  women,  as  well 
as  by  the  faults  of  men  ?  I  am  afraid  there  are  too  many  wives 
as  subject  to  ill  habits  as  the  men  can  be.  It  is  possible  to  name 
not  a  few  ladies  who  find  their  virtuous  exercises,  the  duties  of 
piety,  and  the  various  offices  of  love  and  goodness,  as  distasteful 
and  irksome  to  them  as  they  can  be  to  a  libertine  or  a  cruel  man. 
I  could  tell  some  sad  stories  to  this  purpose ;  but  all  I  shall  say 
more  is,  that  there  are  faults  on  both  sides,  and  that  it  is  not  the 
ladies  only  run  a  hazard  of  being  ruined  by  marrying.  I  am  sure, 
there  are  as  many  men  of  fortune  miserable  by  the  manners  and 
conduct  of  their  wives,  as  you  can  name  ladies  who  are  sufferers 
by  the  temper  and  practice  of  their  husbands.  This  is  the  truth 
of  the  case,  and  the  business  is,  in  order  to  avoid  the  miseries 
we  both  have  seen  among  married  people,  to  resolve  to  act  well 
and  wisely."  "  This  is  the  thing  to  be  sure,"  replied  Miss  SPENCE. 
"  This  will  prevent  faults  on  either  side.  Such  a  course  as  virtue 
and  piety  require  must  have  a  continued  tendency  to  render  life 
a  scene  of  the  greatest  happiness  ;  and  it  may  gain  infinitely 
hereafter.  Call  upon  me  then  at  Cleator  as  soon  as  you  can," 
she  concluded,  with  her  face  in  smiles,  "  and  we  will  talk  over 
this  affair  again."  Thus  we  chatted  as  we  dined  together  in 
private,  and  early  the  next  morning  Miss  SPENCE  left  the 
Wells. 

Miss  SPENCE  being  gone  from  Harrogate,  and  finding  myself 
very  ill  from  having  drank  too  hard  the  preceding  night,  I  mounted 
my  horse,  and  rode  to  Oldfield-Spa,  a  few  miles  off,  as  I  had  heard 
an  extraordinary  account  of  its  usefulness  after  a  debauch.  There 
is  not  so  much  as  a  little  ale-house  there  to  rest  at,  and  for  six  days 
I  lodged  at  the  cottage  of  a  poor  labouring  man,  to  which  my  in- 
former directed  me.  I  lived  on  such  plain  fare  as  he  had  for  him- 
self. Bread  and  roots,  and  milk  and  water,  were  my  chief  support ; 
and  for  the  time,  I  was  as  happy  as  I  could  wish. 

O  Nature  !  Nature  !  would  man  be  satisfied  with  thee,  and 
follow  thy  wise  dictates,  he  would  constantly  enjoy  that  true  plea- 


300  THE  LIFE  OF 


sure,  which  advances  his  real  happiness,  and  very  rarely  be  tor- 
mented with  those  evils,  which  obstruct  and  destroy  it ;  but,  alas  ! 
instead  of  listening  to  the  voice  of  reason,  keeping  the  mind  free 
of  passions,  and  living  as  temperance  and  discretion  direct,  the 
man  of  pleasure  will  have  all  the  gratifications  of  sense  to  as  high 
a  pitch,  as  an  imagination  and  fortune  devoted  to  them  can  raise 
them,  and  diseases  and  calamities  are  the  consequence.  Fears, 
anxieties  and  disappointments  are  often  the  attendants,  and  too 
frequently  the  ruin  of  health  and  estate,  of  reputation  and  honour, 
and  the  lasting  wound  of  remorse  in  reflection,  follow.  This  is 
generally  the  case  of  the  voluptuary.  Dreadful  Case  !  He  runs 
the  course  of  pleasure  first,  and  then  the  course  of  produced  evils 
succeeds.  He  passes  from  pleasure  to  a  state  of  pain,  and  the  plea- 
sure past  gives  a  double  sense  of  that  pain.  We  ought  then  surely, 
as  reasonable  beings,  to  confine  our  pleasure  within  the  bounds  of 
just  and  right. 

As  to  the  place  called  Oldfield-Spa,  it  is  seven  miles  from  Harro- 
gate,  and  four  from  Rippon,  lies  on  a  rising  ground,  between  two 
high  hills,  near  an  old  abbey,  about  five  yards  from  a  running 
stream,  and  in  a  most  romantic,  delightful  situation,  which  re- 
sembles Matlock  in  Derbyshire,  so  very  much,  that  one  might 
almost  take  it  for  the  same  place,  if  conveyed  there  in  a  long  deep 
sleep.  The  same  kind  of  charms  and  various  beauties  are  every- 
where to  be  seen  ;  rocks  and  mountains,  groves  and  valleys,  tender 
shrubs  and  purling  currents,  at  once  surprise  and  please  the  wan- 
dering eye. 

As  to  the  mineral  water  at  Oldfield-Spa,  it  is  an  impetuous 
spring,  that  throws  out  a  vast  quantity  of  water,  and  is  always  of 
the  same  height,  neither  affected  by  rain  or  drought.  It  is  bright 
and  sparkling,  and  when  poured  into  a  glass,  rises  up  in  rows  like 
strings  of  little  beads.  It  has  an  uncommon  taste,  quite  different 
from  all  other  mineral  waters  that  ever  came  in  my  way  ;  but  it 
is  not  disagreeable.  What  impregnates  it  I  know  not.  Dr. 
Rutty  I  suppose  never  heard  of  this  water,  for  it  is  not  in  his  valu- 
able quarto  lately  published  ;  and  Dr.  Short,  in  his  excellent 
History  of  Mineral  Waters,  printed  in  two  quarto  volumes  in  1734, 
says  little  more  than  that  there  is  a  medicinal  spring  there.  What 
I  found  upon  trial  is,  that  two  quarts  of  it,  swallowed  as  fast  as  I 
could  drink  it  in  a  morning,  vomits  to  great  advantage  ;  and  that 
four  quarts  of  it,  drank  by  degrees,  at  intervals,  works  off  by  siege 
or  stool,  and  urine,  in  a  very  beneficial,  manner.  I  was  appre- 
hensive of  a  high  fever  from  my  night's  hard  drinking  at 
Harrogate,  which  I  could  not  avoid ;  and  the  Oldfield- water, 
operating  as  related,  carried  off  the  bad  symptoms,  and  restored 
me  to  sanity  in  two  days'  time.  This  is  all  I  can  say  of  this  fine 
water.  It  is  very  little  in  respect  of  what  it  deserves  to  have  said 
of  it. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ<  301 

By  the  way,  it  is  to  me  a  matter  of  great  admiration,  that  so 
many  rich  and  noble  persons  not  only  endure  the  fatigues  and 
hazards  of  sailing  and  travelling  to  remote  countries,  but  waste 
their  money,  to  drink  spa- waters  abroad,  when  they  can  have  as 
good  of  every  kind  in  England,  by  riding  a  few  miles  to  the  most 
delightful  places  in  the  world,  in  summer  time.  Our  own  country 
has  healing  waters  equal  to  the  best  in  France,  Italy,  and  West- 
phalia. Harrogate-water,  in  particular,  has  all  the  virtues  of  the 
famous  baths  of  Aponus,  within  a  mile  of  Padua  in  Italy,  and  is  in 
every  respect  exactly  alike.  See  the  analysis  of  Aponus-water  by 
Fallopius  and  Baccius,  and  the  analysis  of  the  English  sulphur-spa 
by  Dr.  Rutty.  It  is  injustice  then  to  our  country  to  visit  foreign 
nations  upon  this  account. 

The  mineral  waters  called  Moffat- waters,  which  are  as  good  as 
any  in  the  known  world,  are  found  at  the  distance  of  a  long  mile 
northward  from  Moffat,  a  village  in  Annandale,  thirty-five  miles 
south-west  of  Edinburgh.  The  springs  are  situated  on  the  declivity 
of  a  hill,  and  on  the  brow  of  a  precipice,  with  high  mountains  at  a 
distance,  and  almost  on  every  side  of  them.  The  hill  is  the  second 
from  Hartfield,  adjoining  the  highest  hill  in  Scotland. 

A  vein  of  spar  runs  for  several  miles  on  this  range  of  hills,  and 
forms  the  bottom  and  lower  sides  of  the  wells.  It  is  of  a  greyish 
colour,  having  polished  and  shining  surfaces  of  regular  figures, 
interspersed  with  glittering  particles  of  a  golden  colour,  which  are 
very  copious  and  large. 

There  are  two  medicinal  springs  or  wells,  which  are  separated 
from  one  another  by  a  small  rock ;  the  higher  well  lies  with  its  mouth 
south  east.  It  is  of  an  irregular  square  figure,  and  about  a  foot 
and  a  half  deep.  The  lower  well  is  surrounded  with  naked  rocks, 
forming  a  small  arch  of  a  circle.  Its  depth  is  four  feet  and  a  half, 
and  by  a  moderate  computation,  the  two  springs  yield  forty  loads 
of  water  in  twenty-four  hours,  each  load  containing  sixty-four 
or  sixty-eight  Scotch  pints ;  a  Scotch  pint  is  two  English  quarts. 
The  higher  shallow  well  is  used  for  bathing,  as  it  is  not  capable  of 
being  kept  so  clean  as  the  lower  well,  on  account  of  the  shallow- 
ness  and  the  looseness  of  its  parts. 

These  waters  are  strongly  sulphureous,  and  resemble  the  scour- 
ings  of  a  foul  gun,  or  rotten  eggs,  or  a  weak  solution  of  sal  poly- 
chrestum,  or  hepar  sulphuris.  The  colour  of  the  water  is  somewhat 
milky  or  bluish.  The  soil  on  every  side  of  the  wells  is  thin,  and 
the  hills  rocky,  only  just  below  the  wells  there  is  a  small  moss 
caused  by  the  falling  of  water  from  the  hill  above  it. 

Great  is  the  medicinal  virtue  of  these  waters,  in  relieving  in- 
wardly, cholics,  pains  in  the  stomach,  griping  of  the  guts  ;  bilious, 
nephritic,  nervous  and  hysteric  cholics  ;  the  gravel,  by  carrying 
off  the  quantities  of  sand,  though  it  does  not  dissolve  the  slimy 
gravel,  clearing  the  urinary  passages  in  a  wonderful  manner  ; 


302  THE  LIFE  OF 


curing  ischuries,  and  ulcerated  kidneys  ;  the  gout,  the  palsy,  ob- 
structions of  the  menses,  old  gleets,  and  barrenness ;  it  is  a  sovereign 
remedy  in  rheumatic  and  scorbutic  pains,  even  when  the  limbs  are 
monstrously  swelled,  useless,  and  covered  with  scales.  Outwardly, 
ulcers,  tumors,  itch,  St.  Anthony's  fire,  and  king's  evil. 

The  waters  are  used  by  bathing  and  drinking  :  to  drink  in  the 
morning  three  chopins,  i.  e.  six  pints  or  a  Scotch  quart,  four  Eng- 
lish quarts,  at  most,  between  the  hours  of  six  and  eleven.  After 
dinner  to  drink  gradually. 

Medicines  commonly  used  during  the  drinking  of  the  waters  are, 
an  emetic  or  two  at  first,  and  a  few  cathartic  doses.  The  doses 
sal  Glauberi  and  polychrestum  :  syrup  of  buckthorn,  and  sulphur, 
is  used  along  with  the  water. 

But  the  cathartic  prescription  most  in  use,  which  was  given  by 
an  eminent  physician,  for  a  general  recipe,  to  be  taken  by  all  who 
should  at  any  time  use  the  water,  is  pills  that  are  a  composition 
of  gambozia,  resin  of  jalap,  aloes,  and  scammony  ;  these  to  all  in- 
tents are  a  strong  hydragogue. 

The  large  vein  of  spar  three  feet  thick,  runs  in  one  direction  for 
six  miles  to  the  wells,  crosses  obliquely  the  rivulet  at  the  bottom 
of  the  precipice,  and  ascends  the  hill  on  the  opposite  side.  Small 
veins  of  the  same  spar  which  appears  on  the  precipices,  are  on  the 
side  of  the  rivulet,  and  six  small  gushes  of  water  of  the  mineral 
kind  proceed  from  them.  The  rocks  and  stones  about  the  tops  of 
the  wells,  and  in  other  parts  of  the  hill,  and  precipices  differ  not 
from  common  stones,  no  more  than  the  water  of  the  small  springs 
in  the  neighbourhood  with  the  common  water. 

The  virtue  of  this  water  was  discovered  by  Miss  Whiteford, 
daughter  of  bishop  Whiteford,  in  1632.  She  had  been  abroad, 
and  all  over  England,  drinking  mineral  waters  for  the  recovery  of 
her  health,  but  found  little  benefit,  till  by  accident  she  tasted 
these  waters  in  her  neighbourhood,  and  finding  they  resembled 
those  she  had  used  elsewhere,  made  a  trial  of  them,  and  was  cured 
of  all  her  disorders. 

Upon  this  she  recommended  the  use  of  them  to  others,  and  em- 
ployed workmen  to  clear  the  ground  about  the  springs,  their  over- 
flowing having  made  a  small  morass,  that  the  poor  and  the  rich 
might  come,  and  make  use  of  a  medicine,  which  nature  had  so 
bounteously  offered  to  them. 

The  iQth  of  May,  1731,  at  that  hour  when  the  break  of  day 
offers  the  most  magnificent  sight  to  the  eyes  of  men,  though  few 
who  have  eyes  will  deign  to  view  it ;  I  mounted  my  horse,  and 
intended  to  breakfast  at  Knaresborough,  in  order  to  my  being  at 
Harrogate  by  dinner  time,  with  my  friends  again  ;  but  the  land 
I  went  over  was  so  enchantingly  romantic,  and  the  morning  so 
extremely  beautiful,  that  I  had  a  mind  to  see  more  of  the  country, 
and  let  my  horse  trot  on  where  he  pleased.  For  a  couple  of  hours, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  303 

he  went  slowly  over  the  hills  as  his  inclination  directed  him,  and  I 
was  delightfully  entertained  with  the  various  fine  scenes. 

The  rising  sun,  which  I  had  directly  before  me,  struck  me  very 
strongly,  in  the  fine  situation  I  was  in  for  observing  it,  with  the 
power  and  wisdom  of  the  author  of  nature,  and  gave  me  such  a 
charming  degree  of  evidence  for  the  Deity,  that  I  could  not  but 
offer  up,  in  silence,  on  the  altar  of  my  heart,  praise  and  adoration 
to  that  sovereign  and  universal  mind,  image  of  his  benignity,  and 
in  its  circle,  which  it  traces  unweariedly  round  ;  not  only  to  illus- 
trate successively  the  opposite  sides  of  this  globe,  thereby  enliven- 
ing the  animal,  and  supporting  the  vegetable  world,  ripening  and 
preparing  matter  for  all  the  purposes  of  life  and  vegetation  ;  but, 
to  enlighten  and  cheer  surrounding  worlds,  by  a  perpetual  diffusion 
of  bounties,  to  dispel  darkness  and  sorrow,  and  like  the  presence 
of  the  Deity,  infuse  secret  ravishment  and  delight  into  the  heart. 
This  cannot  be  the  production  of  chance.  It  must  be  the  work  of 
an  infinitely  wise  and  good  Being.  The  nature,  situation,  and 
motion  of  the  sun,  brings  the  Deity  even  within  the  reach  of  the 
methods  of  sense  assisted  by  reason,  and  shows  such  constant 
operations  of  his  power  and  goodness,  that  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
sider the  present  disposition  of  the  system,  without  being  full  of  a 
sense  of  love  and  gratitude  to  the  Almighty  Creator — the  parent 
of  Being  and  of  Beauty!  By  this  returning  minister  of  his  benefi- 
cence, all  things  are  recalled  into  life,  from  corruption  and  decay  ; 
and  by  its,  and  all  the  other  heavenly  motions,  the  whole  frame  of 
nature  is  still  kept  in  repair.  His  name  alone  then  is  excellent, 
and  his  glory  above  the  earth  and  heaven.  It  becomes  the  whole 
system  of  rationals  to  say,  Hallelujah. 

Come  CHEERFULNESS,  triumphant  Fair, 
Shine  through  the  painful  cloud  of  care. 
O  sweet  of  language,  mild  of  mien, 
Fair  virtue's  friend,  and  pleasure's  queen  ! 
Fond  guardian  of  domestic  life, 
Best  banisher  of  home-bred  strife  ; 
Nor  sullen  lip,  nor  taunting  eye 
Deform  the  scene  where  thou  art  by : 
No  sick'ning  husband  damns  the  hour, 
That  bound  his  joys  to  female  power  ; 
No  pining  mother  weeps  the  cares, 
That  parents  waste  on  hopeless  heirs  : 
Th'  officious  daughters  pleas'd  attend ; 
The  brother  rises  to  the  friend  : 
By  thee  our  board  with  flowers  is  crown'd, 
By  thee  with  songs  our  walks  resound  ; 
By  thee  the  sprightly  mornings  shine, 
And  evening  hours  in  peace  decline. 

While  I  was  thinking  in  this  manner  of  the  sun,  and  the  author 
of  it,  I  came  into  a  silent  unfrequented  glade,  that  was  finely 
adorned  with  streams  and  trees.  Nature  there  seemed  to  be  lulled 


304  THE  LIFE  OF 


into  a  kind  of  pleasing  repose,  and  conspired  as  it  were  to  soften 
a  speculative  genius  into  solid  and  awful  contemplations.  The 
woods,  the  meadows,  and  the  water,  formed  the  most  delightful 
scenes,  and  the  charms  of  distant  prospects  multiplied  as  I  travelled 
on  ;  but  at  last  I  came  to  a  seat  which  had  all  the  beauties  that 
proportion,  regularity,  and  convenience  can  give.  This  delightful 
mansion  was  situated  in  the  midst  of  meadows,  and  surrounded 
with  gardens,  trees,  and  various  shades.  A  fountain  played  to  a 
great  height  before  the  door,  and  fell  into  a  circular  reservoir  of 
water,  that  had  foreign  wild-fowl  swimming  on  its  surface.  The 
whole  was  very  fine. 

Here  I  walked  for  some  time,  and  after  roaming  about,  went  up 
to  the  house,  to  admire  its  beauties.  I  found  the  windows  open, 
and  could  see  several  ladies  in  one  of  the  apartments.  How  to 
gain  admittance  was  the  question,  and  I  began  to  contrive  many 
ways  ;  but  while  I  was  busied  in  this  kind  of  speculation,  a  genteel 
footman  came  up  to  me,  and  let  me  know,  his  lady  sent  him  to  in- 
form me  I  might  walk  in  and  look  at  the  house,  if  I  pleased.  So 
in  I  went,  and  passed  through  several  grand  rooms,  all  finely 
furnished,  and  filled  with  paintings  of  great  price.  In  one  of  those 
chambers  the  servant  left  me,  and  told  me,  he  would  wait  upon  me 
again  in  a  little  time.  This  surprised  me,  and  my  astonishment 
was  doubled,  when  I  had  remained  alone  for  almost  an  hour.  No 
footman  returned,  nor  could  I  hear  the  sound  of  any  feet.  But  I 
was  charmingly  entertained  all  the  while.  In  the  apartment  I 
was  left  in,  were  two  figures,  dressed  like  a  shepherd  and  shep- 
herdess, which  amazed  me  very  much.  They  sat  on  a  rich  couch, 
in  a  gay  alcove,  and  both  played  on  the  German  flute.  They 
moved  their  heads,  their  arms,  their  eyes,  their  fingers,  and  seemed 
to  look  with  a  consciousness  at  each  other,  while  they  breathed, 
at  my  entering  the  room,  that  fine  piece  of  music,  the  masquerade 
minuet  j  and  afterwards,  several  excellent  pieces.  I  thought  at 
first,  they  were  living  creatures  ;  but  on  examination,  finding  they 
were  only  wood,  my  admiration  increased,  and  became  exceeding 
great,  when  I  saw,  by  shutting  their  mouths,  and  stopping  their 
fingers,  that  the  music  did  not  proceed  from  an  organ  within  the 
figures.  It  was  an  extraordinary  piece  of  clockwork,  invented 
and  made  by  one  JOHN  NIXON,  a  poor  man. 

At  length  however,  a  door  was  opened,  and  a  lady  entered,  she 
was  vastly  pretty,  and  richly  drest  beyond  what  I  had  ever  seen, 
and  had  diamonds  enough  for  a  queen.  I  was  amazed  at  the  sight 
of  her,  and  wondered  still  more,  when,  after  being  honoured  with 
a  low  courtesy,  on  my  bowing  to  her,  she  asked  me  in  Irish,  how  I 
did,  and  how  long  I  had  been  in  England.  My  surprise  was  so 
great  I  could  not  speak,  and  upon  this,  she  said,  in  the  same  lan- 
guage, I  see,  sir,  you  have  no  remembrance  of  me.  You  cannot 
recollect  the  least  idea  of  me.  You  have  quite  forgot  young 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  305 

IMOINDA,  of  the  county  of  Galway  in  Ireland  ;  who  was  your 
partner  in  country  dances,  when  you  passed  the  Christmas  of  the 
year  171 5,  at  her  father's  house.  What  Miss  Wolf  of  Balineskay  ? 
O  my  IMOINDA  !  I  exclaimed,  and  snatching  her  in  my  arms,  I 
almost  stifled  her  with  kisses.  I  was  so  glad  to  see  her  again,  and 
in  the  situation  she  appeared  in,  that  I  could  not  help  expressing 
my  joys  in  that  tumultuous  manner,  and  hoped  she  would  excuse 
her  Valentine,  as  I  then  remembered  I  had  had  that  honour  when 
we  were  both  very  young. 

This  lady,  who  was  good  humour  itself  in  flesh  and  blood,  was 
so  far  from  being  angry  at  this  strange  flight  of  mine,  that  she  only 
laughed  excessively  at  the  oddness  of  the  thing  ;  but  some  ladies 
who  came  into  the  apartment  with  her  seemed  frightened,  and  at 
a  loss  what  to  think,  till  she  cleared  up  the  affair  to  them,  by  letting 
them  know  who  I  was,  and  how  near  her  father  and  mine  lived  to 
each  other  in  the  country  of  Ireland.  She  was  indeed  extremely 
glad  to  see  me,  and  from  her  heart  bid  me  welcome  to  Clankford. 
Our  meeting  was  a  vast  surprise  to  both  of  us.  She  thought  I  had 
been  in  the  Elysian  fields,  as  she  had  heard  nothing  of  me  for 
several  years,  and  I  little  imagined,  I  should  ever  find  her  in  Eng- 
land, in  the  rich  condition  she  was  in.  She  asked  me  by  what 
destiny  I  was  brought  to  Yorkshire  ;  and  in  return  for  my  short 
story,  gave  me  an  account  of  herself  at  large.  Till  the  bell  rung 
for  dinner,  we  sat  talking  together,  and  then  went  down  to  as 
elegant  a  repast  as  I  had  ever  seen.  There  were  twelve  at  table, 
six  young  ladies,  all  very  handsome,  and  six  gentlemen.  Good 
humour  presided,  and  in  a  rational,  delightful  cheerfulness,  we 
passed  some  hours  away.  After  coffee,  we  went  to  cards,  and 
from  them  to  country  dances,  as  two  of  the  footmen  played  well 
on  the  fiddle.  The  charming  IMOINDA  was  my  partner,  and  as 
they  all  did  the  dances  extremely  well,  we  were  as  happy  a  little 
set  as  ever  footed  it  to  country  measure.  Two  weeks  I  passed  in 
this  fine  felicity.  Then  we  all  separated,  and  went  different  ways. 
What  became  of  Miss  WOLF  after  this,  the  extraordinary  events 
of  her  life,  and  the  stories  of  the  five  ladies  with  her,  I  shall  relate 
in  the  second  volume  of  my  Memoirs  of  several  Ladies  of  Great 
Britain.  Four  of  them  were  Mrs.  CHESLIN,  Mrs.  FANSHAW,  Mrs. 
CHADLEY,  and  Mrs.  BISSEL  ;  the  fifth  was  Miss  FARMOR  ;  all 
mentioned  in  the  Preface  to  the  first  volume  of  my  Memoirs  afore- 
said. 

A  fortnight,  as  said,  I  stayed  with  Miss  WOLF,  that  was  ;  but, 
at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  the  relict  of  Sir  LOGHLIN  FITZGIB- 
BONS,  an  old  Irish  knight,  who  was  immensely  rich,  and  married 
her  when  he  was  creeping  upon  all-fours,  with  snow  on  his  head, 
and  frost  in  his  bones,  that  he  might  lie  by  a  naked  beauty,  and 
gaze  at  that  awful  spot  he  had  no  power  to  enjoy.  I  did  intend, 
on  leaving  this  lady,  to  be  at  Knaresborough  at  night ;  but  the 


306  THE  LIFE  OF 


fates,  for  a  while,  took  me  another  way.  At  the  inn  where  I  dined 
I  became  acquainted  with  a  gentleman  much  of  my  own  age,  who 
was  an  ingenious,  agreeable  man.  This  was  OLIVER  WINCUP,  Esq.; 
who  had  lately  married  Miss  HORNER  of  Northumberland,  a  fine 
young  creature,  and  a  great  fortune.  This  gentleman,  by  his 
good  humour,  and  several  good  songs,  pleased  me  so  much,  that  I 
drank  more  than  I  intended,  and  was  easily  prevailed  on  to  go 
with  him,  in  the  evening,  to  Woodcester,  the  name  of  his  seat ; 
which  was  but  ten  miles  from  the  house  we  had  dined  at.  We 
came  in  just  as  they  were  going  to  tea.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
company,  at  least  a  dozen  ladies,  besides  half  a  score  gentlemen, 
and  all  of  them  as  gay  and  engaging  as  the  best-bred  young  mor- 
tals could  be. 

The  villa  here  was  very  odd,  but  a  charming  pretty  thing.  The 
house  consisted  of,  I  think,  ten  several  ground  rooms,  detached 
from  one  another,  and  separated  by  trees  and  banks  of  flowers. 
They  were  entirely  of  wood,  but  finely  put  together,  and  all  dis- 
posed with  the  greatest  symmetry  and  beauty.  They  were  very 
handsome  on  the  outside,  and  the  inside  was  furnished  and  adorned 
with  the  finest  things  the  owner  could  get  for  money.  Easy  hills, 
little  valleys,  and  pretty  groves,  surrounded  the  sweet  retreat,  and 
the  valleys  were  watered  with  clear  streams.  The  whole  had  a  fine 
appearance.  The  varied  scenes  for  ever  pleased. 

At  this  delightful  place  I  stayed  ten  days,  and  was  very  happy 
indeed.  We  drank,  we  laughed,  we  danced,  we  sung,  and  chatted 
and  when  that  was  done,  'twas  night.  But  country-dances  were 
the  chief  diversion  ;  and  I  had  a  partner,  who  was  not  only  a  won- 
der in  face  and  person,  being  divinely  pretty  ;  but  did  wonders  in 
every  motion.  This  was  Miss  VEYSSIERE  of  Cumberland  :  the 
dear  creature  :  Reader,  when  I  was  a  young  fellow,  there  were  few 
could  equal  me  in  dancing.  The  famous  PADDY  MURPHY,  an 
Irish  member  of  the  house  of  commons,  commonly  called  the 
Little  Beau,  well  known  at  Lucas's  coffee-house  in  Dublin,  in  1734  ; 
and  LANGHAM,  the  miller,  who  danced  every  night  at  the  renowned 
Stretch's  puppet-show,  before  the  curtain  was  drawn  up,  danced 
one  night,  that  I  was  at  the  castle,  before  the  late  Duke  of  Dorset 
and  his  Duchess,  at  their  graces'  request ;  and  were  both  de- 
servedly admired  for  their  performance  in  the  hornpipe,  yet  they 
were  nothing  to  me  in  this  particular  ;  Miss  VEYSSIERE  however 
out-did  me  far  ;  her  steps  were  infinite,  and  she  did  them  with 
that  amazing  agility,  that  she  seemed  like  a  dancing  angel  in  the 
air.  We  footed  it  together  eight  nights,  and  all  the  company  said, 
we  were  born  for  each  other.  She  charmed  me  exceedingly,  and  I 
should  have  asked  her  the  question,  to  try  her  temper,  if  WINCUP 
had  not  told  me,  her  father  intended  to  sacrifice  her  to  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  her  grandfather,  for  the  sake  of  a  great  jointure  ;  and 
in  a  week  or  two  she  was  to  dance  the  "  reel  of  Bogee  "  with  an  old 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  307 

monk.  Poor  Miss  VEYSSIERE  !  said  I,  What  connection  can  there 
be  between  the  hoary  churl  and  you  : — 

While  side  by  side  the  blushing  maid 
Shrinks  from  his  visage,  half  afraid  ? 

I  do  not  wish  you  may  feather  him,  but  may  you  bury  him  very 
quickly,  and  be  happy. 

Another  of  our  diversions  at  Woodcester,  was  a  little  company 
of  singers  and  dancers  WINCUP  had  hired,  to  perform  in  a  sylvan 
theatre  he  had  constructed  in  his  gardens.  These  people  did  the 
mime,  the  dance,  the  song,  extremely  well.  There  was  among 
them  one  Miss  HINXWORTH,  a  charming  young  creature,  who  ex- 
celling in  everything,  singing  especially,  had  no  equal  I  believe  in 
the  world.  She  was  a  gentleman's  daughter,  and  had  been  carried 
off  by  one  O' REGAN,  an  Irishman,  and  dancing-master,  and  who 
was  the  head  of  this  company.  He  was  the  most  active  fellow 
upon  earth,  and  the  best  harlequin  I  have  ever  seen.  Every  even- 
ing we  had  something  or  other  extraordinary  from  these  perfor- 
mers. He  gave  us  two  pieces  which  so  nearly  resembled  to  two 
favourite  entertainments  called  Harlequin  Sorcerer,  and  The  Genii, 
though  in  several  particulars  better  ;  that  I  cannot  help  thinking 
Rich  owed  his  Harlequin  Sorcerer  to  O' Regan  ;  and  that  The 
Genii  of  Drury-Lane  was  the  invention  of  this  Irishman. 

You  know,  reader,  that  in  the  first  scene  of  Harlequin  Sorcerer 
there  is  a  group  of  witches  at  their  orgies  in  a  wilderness  by  moon- 
light, and  that  harlequin  comes  riding  in  the  air  between  two 
witches,  upon  a  long  pole  :  Here  O' Regan  did  what  was  never 
attempted  at  Covent-Garden  house,  and  what  no  other  man  in 
the  world  I  believe  did  ever  do.  As  the  witches  danced  round  and 
round,  hand  in  hand,  as  swift  as  they  could  move,  O' Regan 
leaped  upon  the  shoulder  of  one  of  them,  and  for  near  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  jumped  the  contrary  way  as  fast  as  they  went,  round  all 
their  shoulders.  This  was  a  fine  piece  of  activity.  I  think  it 
much  more  wonderful,  than  to  keep  at  the  top  of  the  outwheel  of 
a  water-mill,  by  jumping  there,  as  it  goes  with  the  greatest  rapidity 
round.  This  MUN.  HAWLEY,  of  Loch-Gur  in  the  county  of  Tip- 
perary,  could  do.  He  was  a  charming  fellow  in  body  and  mind, 
and  fell  unfortunately  in  the  twenty-second  year  of  his  age.  In  a 
plain  field,  by  a  trip  of  his  horse,  he  came  down,  and  fractured  his 
skull.  He  did  not  think  he  was  hurt,  but  at  night  as  soon  as  he 
began  to  eat,  it  came  up.  A  surgeon  was  sent  for,  to  look  at  his 
head.  It  was  cracked  in  several  places,  and  he  died  the  next  day. 
He  and  I  were  near  friends. 

The  first  of  June,  1731,  at  five  in  the  morning,  I  took  my  leave 
of  honest  WINCUP,  as  cheerful  and  worthy  a  fellow  as  ever  lived, 
and  set  out  for  Knaresborough  ;  but  lost  my  way,  went  quite 


308  THE  LIFE  OF 


wrong,  and  in  three  hours'  time,  came  to  a  little  blind  ale-house, 
the  sign  of  the  Cat  and  Bagpipe,  in  a  lonely  silent  place.  The  master 
of  this  small  inn  was  one  TOM  CLANCY,  brother  to  the  well-known 
MARTIN  CLANCY  in  Dublin.  He  came  to  England  to  try  his 
fortune,  as  he  told  me,  and  married  an  old  woman,  who  kept  this 
public-house,  the  sign  of  the  Cat,  to  which  TOM  added  the  Bag- 
pipe. As  he  had  been  a  waiter  at  his  brother's  house,  he  remem- 
bered to  have  seen  me  often  there,  and  was  rejoiced  at  my  arrival 
at  the  Cat  and  Bagpipe.  He  got  me  a  good  supper  of  trouts,  fine 
ale,  and  a  squib  of  punch,  and  after  he  had  done  talking  of  all  the 
gallant  fellows  that  used  to  resort  to  his  brother  MARTIN'S,  Cap- 
tain MACCAN  of  the  county  of  Kerry,  and  many  more,  the  heroes 
of  Trinity-college,  Dublin,  he  let  me  go  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  betimes,  I  was  up,  and  walked  into  a  wood 
adjoining  to  Clancy's  house.  I  sauntered  on  for  about  an  hour 
easily  enough,  but  at  last  came  to  a  part  of  the  forest  that  was  al- 
most impenetrable.  Curiosity  excited  me  to  struggle  onwards, 
if  possible,  that  I  might  see  what  country  was  before  me,  or  if  any 
house  was  to  be  found  in  this  gloomy  place  ;  this  cost  me  a  couple 
of  hours,  much  toil,  and  many  scratches  ;  but  at  length,  I  arrived 
at  the  edge  of  a  barren  moor,  and  beyond  it,  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  off,  saw  another  wood.  Proud  to  be  daring,  on  I  went,  and 
soon  came  to  the  wood  in  view,  which  I  found  cut  into  walks,  and 
arrived  at  a  circular  space  surrounded  with  a  forest,  that  was  above 
a  hundred  yards  every  way.  In  the  centre  of  this  was  a  house, 
enclosed  within  a  very  broad  deep  mote,  full  of  water,  and  the 
banks  on  the  inside,  all  round,  were  so  thick  planted  with  trees, 
that  there  was  no  seeing  any  thing  of  the  mansion  but  the  roof  and 
the  chimnies.  Over  the  water  was  one  narrow  draw-bridge,  lifted 
up,  and  a  strong  door  on  the  garden  side  of  the  mote.  Round  I 
walked  several  times,  but  no  soul  could  I  see  :  not  the  least  noise 
could  I  hear  ;  nor  was  there  a  cottage  anywhere  in  view.  I 
wondered  much  at  the  whole,  and  if  I  had  had  my  lad  O'FiN  with 
me,  and  my  pole,  I  would  most  certainly  have  attempted  to  leap 
the  foss,  broad  as  it  was,  and  if  it  was  possible,  have  known  who 
were  the  occupants  of  this  strange  place.  But  as  nothing  could 
be  done,  nor  any  information  be  had,  I  returned  again  to  the  Cat 
and  Bagpipe. 

It  was  ten  by  the  time  I  got  back,  and  at  breakfast  I  told  CLANCY, 
my  landlord,  where  I  had  been,  and  asked  him  if  he  knew  who 
lived  in  that  wonderful  place.  "  His  name,"  he  replied,  "  is 
Cock,  an  old  lawyer  and  limb  of  the  devil,  and  the  most  hideous 
man  to  behold,  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  Everything  that  is 
bad  and  shocking  is  in  his  compound  ;  he  is  to  outward  appear- 
ance a  monster,  and  within,  the  miser,  the  oppressor,  and  the 
villain.  He  is  despised  and  abhorred,  but  so  immensely  rich,  that 
he  can  do  anything,  and  no  one  is  able  to  contend  with  him.  I 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  309 


could  relate/'  said  TOM,  "  a  thousand  instances  of  his  injustice 
and  cruelty  ;  but  one  alone  is  sufficient  to  render  his  memory  for 
ever  cursed.  Two  gentlemen  of  fortune,  who  had  employed  him 
several  years  in  their  affairs,  and  had  a  good  opinion  of  him,  on 
account  of  a  canted  uprightness  and  seeming  piety,  left  him  sole 
guardian  of  a  daughter  each  of  them  had,  and  the  management  of 
fifty  thousand  pounds  a-piece,  the  fortune  of  these  girls,  with  power 
to  do  as  he  pleased,  without  being  subject  to  any  controul,  till 
they  are  of  age.  These  ladies,  as  fine  creatures  as  ever  the  eye  of 
man  beheld,  he  has  had  now  a  year  in  confinement  in  that  prison 
you  saw  in  the  wood  ;  and  while  he  lives,  will  keep  them  there  to 
be  sure,  on  account  of  the  hundred  thousand  pounds,  or  till  he 
shall  be  able  to  dispose  of  them,  to  his  own  advantage  some  way 
or  other.  He  intends  them,  it  is  said,  for  two  ugly  nephews  he 
has,  who  are  now  at  school,  about  fourteen  years  old,  and  for  this 
purpose,  or  some  other  as  bad,  never  suffers  them  to  stir  out  of 
the  garden  surrounded  by  the  mote,  nor  lets  any  human  creatures 
visit  them.  Greatly  as  they  are  to  be  pitied,  they  bear  his  severe 
usage  wonderfully  well.  Miss  MARTHA  TILSTON,  the  eldest,  is  in 
her  twentieth  year  ;  and  the  other,  Miss  ALITHEA  LLANSOY,  in  her 
her  nineteenth.  They  are  girls  of  great  sense,  and  would,  if  any 
kind  of  opportunity  offered,  make  a  brave  attempt  to  escape,  but 
that  seems  impossible.  They  are  not  only  so  strictly  confined, 
and  he  for  ever  at  home  with  them,  except  he  rides  a  few  miles  ; 
but  they  are  attended  continually  in  the  garden,  when  they  walk, 
by  a  servant  who  is  well  paid,  and  devoted  to  the  old  man  her 
master.  This  makes  them  think  their  state  is  fixed  for  life,  and 
to  get  rid  of  melancholy,  they  read,  and  practise  music.  They 
both  play  on  the  fiddle,  and  do  it  extremely  fine." 

Here  CLANCY  had  done,  and  I  was  much  more  surprised  at  his 
relation  than  at  the  place  of  their  residence  which  I  had  seen.  I 
became  very  thoughtful,  and  continued  for  some  time  with  my 
eyes  fixed  on  the  table,  while  I  revolved  the  case  of  these  unfor- 
tunate young  ladies.  "  But  is  all  this  true,  or  only  report  ?  "  said 
I.  "  How  did  you  get  such  particular  information  ?  "  "I  will 
tell  you,"  answered  TOM,  "  Old  COCK  is  my  landlord,  and  business 
often  brings  me  to  his  house  in  the  wood,  to  pay  my  rent,  or  ask 
for  something  I  want.  Besides,  I  sometimes  take  a  fat  pig  there, 
and  other  things  to  sell.  My  daughter,  likewise,  has  sometimes 
a  piece  of  work  in  hand  for  the  ladies,  and  she  and  I  take  a  walk 
with  it  there  by  a  better  and  shorter  way  than  you  went.  You 
cannot  think  how  glad  they  are  to  see  us,  and  then  acquaint  us 
with  all  their  perplexities  and  distress." 

On  hearing  this,  a  sudden  thought  of  being  serviceable  to  these 
ladies  came  into  my  head,  and  I  was  about  to  ask  a  question  in 
relation  to  it,  when  two  horsemen  rode  up  to  the  door,  and  one 
of  them  called  "  House  !  "  "  This  "  says  my  landlord,  "  is  Old 


310  THE  LIFE  OF 


COCK  and  his  man  ;  "  and  immediately  went  out  to  him,  to  know 
his  will.  He  told  him,  he  came  for  the  ride-sake  himself,  to  see  if 
any  letters  were  left  for  him  by  that  day's  post,  at  his  house,  and 
would  dine  with  him  if  he  had  anything  to  eat.  "  I  have  "  said 
Tom,  "  as  fine  a  fowl,  bacon  and  greens,  as  ever  was  served  up  to 
any  table,  and  only  one  gentleman,  a  stranger  and  traveller,  to  sit 
down  to  it."  COCK  upon  this  came  into  the  room  I  was  sitting  in, 
and  after  looking  very  earnestly  at  me,  said  "  Your  servant,  sir." 
I  told  him  I  was  his  "  most  humble,"  and  right  glad  to  meet  with 
a  gentleman  for  society  in  that  lone  place.  I  immediately  began 
a  story  of  a  cock  and  a  bull,  and  made  the  old  fellow  grin  now  and 
then.  I  informed  him  among  other  things,  that  I  was  travelling 
to  Westmoreland,  to  look  after  some  estates  I  had  there,  but  must 
hurry  back  to  London  very  soon,  for  my  wife  was  within  a  few 
weeks  of  her  time.  "  You  are  a  married  man  then,  sir,"  he  re- 
plied. "  Yes,  indeed,  and  so  supremely  blest  with  the  charms 
and  perfections,  the  fondness  and  obedience  of  a  wife,  that  I  would 
not  be  unmarried  for  all  the  world  :  few  men  living  so  happy  as  I 
am  in  the  nuptial  state."  Here  dinner  was  brought  in,  and  to 
save  the  old  gentleman  trouble,  I  would  cut  up  the  fowl.  I  helped 
him  plentifully  to  a  slice  of  the  breast,  and  the  tips  of  the 
wings,  and  picked  out  for  him  the  tenderest  greens.  I  was  as  com- 
plaisant as  it  was  possible,  and  drank  his  health  many  times. 
The  bottle  after  dinner  I  put  about  pretty  quick,  and  told  my  old 
gentleman,  if  affairs  ever  brought  him  up  to  London,  I  should  be 
glad  to  see  him  at  my  house,  in  Golden-Square,  the  very  next  door 
to  Sir  John  Heir's  ;  or,  if  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  him  there, 
he  would  oblige  me  very  much  by  letting  me  know  in  what  way. 
In  short,  I  so  buttered  him  with  words,  and  rilled  him  with  fowl 
and  wine,  that  he  seemed  well  pleased,  especially  when  he  found 
there  was  nothing  to  pay,  as  I  informed  him  it  was  my  own  dinner 
I  had  bespoke,  and  dined  with  double  pleasure  in  having  the  satis- 
faction of  his  most  agreeable  company.  I  further  said,  he  was  a 
fine  politician,  and  talked  extremely  well  of  the  government  and 
the  times  ;  that  I  had  received  more  true  knowledge  from  his  just 
notions,  than  from  all  I  had  read  of  men  and  things,  or  from  con- 
versing with  any  one.  The  glass  during  this  time  was  not  long 
still,  but  in  such  toasts  as  I  found  were  grateful  to  his  Jacobite 
heart,  drank  brimmers  as  fast  as  opportunity  served  ;  and  he 
pledged  me  and  cottoned  in  a  very  diverting  way.  He  grew  very 
fond  of  me  at  last,  and  hoped  I  would  spare  so  much  time,  as  to 
come  and  dine  with  him  the  next  day.  This  honour  I  assured 
him  I  would  do  myself,  and  punctually  be  with  him  at  his  hour. 
He  then  rode  off,  brim  full,  and  I  walked  out  to  consider  of  this 
affair.  But  before  I  proceed  any  farther  in  my  story,  I  must  give 
a  description  of  this  man. 
COCK,  the  old  lawyer  and  guardian,  was  a  low  man,  about  four 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  3 1 1 

feet  eight  inches,  very  broad,  and  near  seventy  years  old.  He 
was  humped  behind  to  an  enormous  degree,  and  his  belly  as  a  vast 
flasket  of  garbage  projected  monstrously  before.  He  had  the 
most  hanging  look  I  have  ever  seen.  His  brows  were  prodigious, 
and  frowning  in  a  shocking  manner ;  his  eyes  very  little,  and 
above  an  inch  within  his  head  ;  his  nose  hooked  like  a  buzzard, 
wide  nostrils  like  a  horse,  and  his  mouth  sparrow.  In  this  case, 
was  a  mind  quite  cunning,  in  the  worst  sense  of  the  word,  acute, 
artful,  designing  and  base.  There  was  not  a  spark  of  honour  or 
generosity  in  his  soul. 

How  to  circumvent  this  able  one,  and  deliver  the  two  beauties 
from  his  oppressive  power,  was  the  question  :  it  seemed  almost 
impossible  ;  but  I  resolved  to  do  my  best.  This  I  told  CLANCY, 
and  requested,  as  I  was  to  dine  with  COCK  the  next  day,  that  he 
would  be  there  in  the  morning,  on  some  pretence  or  other,  and  let 
the  ladies  know,  I  offered  them  my  service,  without  any  other  view 
than  to  do  them  good  ;  and  if  they  accepted  it,  to  inform  me  by  a 
note,  slipt  into  my  hand  when  they  saw  me,  that  if  they  could 
direct  me  what  to  do,  I  would  execute  it  at  any  hazard,  or  let  them 
hint  the  least  particular  that  might  have  any  tendency  to  their 
freedom  in  some  time  to  come,  though  it  were  three  months  off, 
and  I  would  wait  for  the  moment,  and  study  to  improve  the 
scheme.  This  my  landlord  very  carefully  acquainted  them  with, 
at  the  time  I  mentioned  ;  and  by  two  o'clock  I  was  at  COCK'S 
house,  to  see  these  beauties,  and  know  what  they  thought  of  the 
service  offered  them.  The  old  man  received  me  much  civiler  than 
I  thought  he  would  do  when  he  was  sober,  and  had,  what  my  land- 
lord told  me  was  a  very  rare  thing  in  his  house,  to  wit,  a  good 
dinner  that  day.  Just  as  it  was  brought  in  the  ladies  entered, 
two  charming  creatures  indeed,  and  made  me  very  low  courtesies, 
while  their  eyes  declared  the  sense  they  had  of  the  good  I  intended 
them.  COCK  said,  "  These  are  my  nieces,  sir,"  and  as  I  had  saluted 
them,  we  sat  down  to  table.  The  eldest  carved,  and  helped  me  to 
the  best  the  board  afforded,  and  young  as  they  were,  they  both 
showed  by  their  manner,  and  the  little  they  said,  that  they  were 
women  of  sense  and  breeding.  They  retired,  a  few  minutes  after 
dinner,  and  the  youngest  contrived,  in  going  off,  to  give  me  a 
billet,  in  an  invisible  manner.  I  then  turned  to  COCK  entirely, 
heard  him  abuse  the  government  in  nonsense  and  falsehoods,  as 
all  Jacobites  do  ;  and  after  we  had  drank  and  talked  for  better 
than  an  hour,  took  my  leave  of  him  very  willingly,  to  read  the 
following  note. 

"  SIR, 

"  As  you  can  have  nothing  in  view  but  our  happiness,  in  your 
most  generous  offer  of  assistance,  we  have  not  words  to  express 
our  grateful  sense  of  the  intended  favour.  What  is  to  be  done 


312  THE  LIFE  OF 


upon  the  occasion,  as  yet  we  cannot  imagine,  as  we  are  so  con- 
fined and  watched,  and  the  doors  of  the  house  locked  and  barred 
in  such  a  manner  every  night  that  a  cat  could  not  get  out  at  any 
part  of  it. — You  shall  hear  from  us  however  soon,  if  possible, 
to  some  purpose  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  we  are, 
"  SIR, 

''Your  ever  obliged  servants, 

"  M.  T. 
"  A.   L." 

What  to  do  then  I  could  not  tell ;  but  as  I  rode  back  I  con- 
sulted with  my  lad  O'FiN,  who  was  a  very  extraordinary  young 
man,  and  asked  him  what  observations  he  had  made  on  the 
servants  and  place.  He  said,  he  had  tried  the  depth  of  the 
water  in  the  mote  all  round,  and  found  it  fordable  at  one  angle, 
waist  high,  and  the  rock  he  trod  on  about  two  feet  broad.  He 
had  stripped,  and  walked  it  over  to  be  sure  of  the  thing.  As  to 
the  people,  he  fancied  there  was  one  young  man,  a  labourer  by 
the  year  under  the  gardener,  who  would,  for  a  reasonable  reward 
for  losing  his  place,  be  aiding  in  the  escape  of  the  ladies  ;  for  he 
talked  with  pity  of  them,  and  with  great  severity  of  his  master  : 
that  if  I  pleased,  he  would  sound  this  man,  and  let  me  know 
more  in  relation  to  him  :  that  if  he  would  be  concerned,  he  could 
very  easily  carry  the  ladies  on  his  back  across  the  water,  as  he 
was  a  tall  man,  and  then  we  might  take  them  behind  us  to  what 
place  we  pleased  ;  or,  if  it  was  not  safe  trusting  this  man,  for  fear 
of  his  telling  his  master,  in  hopes  of  more  money  on  that  side, 
then,  he  would  himself  engage  to  bring  the  ladies  and  their  clothes 
over,  on  his  own  back,  with  wetting  only  their  legs,  if  they  could 
be  at  the  water-side  some  hour  in  the  night.  This  was  not  bad 
to  be  sure,  but  I  was  afraid  to  trust  the  man  ;  for,  if  he  should 
inform  old  COCK  of  the  thing,  they  would  be  confined  to  their 
chambers,  and  made  close  prisoners  for  the  time  to  come.  It 
was  better  therefore  to  rely  entirely  upon  O'FiN,  if  they  could 
get  into  the  garden  in  the  night. 

In  answer  then  to  another  letter  I  had  from  the  ladies  by  my 
landlord's  daughter  the  next  morning,  in  which  they  lamented 
the  appearing  impossibility  of  an  escape,  I  let  them  know  im- 
mediately the  state  of  the  water,  and  desired  to  be  informed  what 
they  thought  of  the  gardener's  man  ;  or,  if  he  would  not  do, 
could  they  at  any  particular  hour,  get  to  that  angle  of  the  mote 
I  named,  to  be  brought  over  on  my  man's  back,  and  then  imme- 
diately ride  off  behind  us  on  pillions,  which  should  be  prepared. 
Their  answer  was,  that  they  dared  not  trust  any  of  their  guar- 
dian's men,  but  thought  my  own  servant  would  do,  and  the 
scheme  reasonable  and  seemingly  safe,  if  they  could  get  out. 
They  gave  me  a  million  of  thanks  for  my  amazing  care  of  them, 


JOHN  BUN  OLE,  ESQ.  313 

and  called  the  immortal  powers  to  witness  the  high  sense  they 
had  of  their  unutterable  obligation  to  me. 

Waiting  then  for  them,  I  staid  at  the  little  inn  three  days 
longer,  and  at  last  received  a  billet  to  let  me  know,  that  at  twelve 
o'clock  that  night,  which  was  the  sixth  of  June,  they  could,  by  an 
accident  that  had  happened,  be  at  the  appointed  place,  and 
ready  to  go  wherever  I  pleased.  To  a  minute  my  man  and  I 
were  there,  and  in  a  few  moments,  O'FiN  brought  them  and 
their  clothes  over  safe.  In  an  instant  after  they  were  behind  us, 
and  we  rode  off  as  fast  as  we  could.  Six  hours  we  travelled 
without  stopping,  and  in  that  time,  had  gone  about  thirty  miles. 
We  breakfasted  very  gaily  at  our  inn,  and  when  the  horses  had 
rested  a  couple  of  hours,  we  set  out  again,  and  rode  till  three  in 
the  afternoon,  when  we  baited  at  a  lone  house  in  a  valley,  called 
Straveret  Vale,  which  had  every  rural  charm  that  can  be  found 
in  the  finest  part  of  Juan  Fernandes.  A  young  couple,  vastly 
civil  kept  here  a  small  clean  public  house,  the  sign  of  the  Pilgrim, 
on  the  very  margin  of  a  pretty  river,  and  the  plain  things  they 
had  were  as  good  as  we  could  desire.  Their  bread,  their  drink, 
their  fowl,  their  eggs,  their  butter,  cheese,  vegetables,  and  bacon, 
were  excellent,  and  as  they  had  good  beds,  I  thought  we  could 
not  do  better  than  lie  by  for  two  or  three  days  in  this  charming 
place,  till  it  was  determined,  where  the  ladies  should  fix.  We 
were  at  least  sixty  miles  from  old  COCK'S  house,  and  in  an  obs- 
curity that  would  conceal  us  from  any  pursuers  ;  for  we  had 
kept  the  cross  roads  and  by-ways,  and  were  on  the  confines 
of  Westmoreland.  Here  then  we  agreed  to  rest  for  a  little 
time.  In  reality,  it  was  just  as  I  pleased.  The  ladies  were  all 
acknowledgment  for  what  I  did  to  deliver  them,  and  all  submis- 
sion to  my  direction.  They  had  each  of  them  thirty  guineas  in 
their  purses,  as  they  showed  me,  but  what  to  do  after  that  was 
gone,  or  where  to  go  while  it  lasted,  to  be  in  safety,  they  could 
not  tell. 

The  affair  perplexed  me  very  much,  and  I  turned  it  a  thou- 
sand ways,  without  being  able  to  settle  it  as  I  would.  I  had 
two  young  heiresses  on  my  hands,  who  wanted  more  than  a 
year  of  being  at  age,  and  I  must  support  them,  and  place  them  in 
some  spot  of  decency,  security,  and  peace,  since  I  had  gone  thus 
far,  or  I  had  injured  them  greatly,  instead  of  serving  them,  in 
bringing  them  from  their  guardian's  house.  This  took  up  all 
my  thoughts  for  three  days.  I  concealed  however  my  uneasi- 
ness from  them,  and  endeavoured  to  make  the  house  and  place 
quite  pleasing  to  them.  I  kept  up  a  cheerfulness  and  gaiety, 
and  we  sat  down  with  joy  and  pleasure  to  breakfast,  dinner,  and 
supper.  Within  doors,  we  played  at  cards,  we  sung,  and  I  enter- 
tained them  with  my  german-flute.  Abroad,  we  walked,  fished, 
and  sometimes  I  rowed  them  up  the  river  in  a  boat  which  the 


314  THE  LIFE  OF 


man  of  the  house  had.  The  whole  scheme  was  really  delightful, 
and  as  the  girls  had  great  quickness  and  vivacity,  and  were  far 
from  being  ignorant,  considering  their  few  years,  I  could  have 
wished  it  was  possible  to  stay  there  much  longer  :  but  it  was  no 
place  for  them,  and  I  was  obliged  to  call  at  Claytor,  in  a  little 
time.  I  could  not  forget  my  promise  to  the  lovely  Miss  SPENCE. 
My  honour  was  engaged,  and  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  It  is 
true,  if  I  had  not  been  engaged,  I  might  immediately  have  mar- 
ried either  the  beautiful  Miss  TILSTON,  or  the  more  beautiful 
Miss  LLANDSOY,  then  become  my  wards  ;  but  as  they  were  minors, 
if  such  a  wife  died  under  age,  I  could  be  no  gainer,  and  might 
have  children  to  maintain  without  any  fortune.  All  these  things 
sat  powerfully  on  my  spirits,  and  I  was  obliged  at  last  to  make 
the  following  declaration  to  the  ladies,  which  I  did  the  third  day 
after  dinner. 

"  Miss  TILSTON,  Miss  LLANDSOY,  I  am  sensible  you  have  too 
high  an  opinion  of  what  I  have  done  to  serve  you,  and  think 
there  is  more  merit  in  it  than  there  really  is  ;  for  a  man  of  any 
generosity  and  ability  would,  I  imagine,  do  all  that  was  pos- 
sible to  deliver  two  young  ladies  of  your  charms  and  perfections, 
from  the  slavery  and  misery  your  guardian  kept  you  in  :  I  am 
likewise  sure  you  believe  I  would  do  everything  in  my  power, 
to  secure  your  happiness,  and  give  you  the  possession  of  every 
blessing  of  time.  I  honour,  I  admire,  I  regard  you  both,  to  a  high 
degree  ;  and  if  I  were  some  powerful  genie,  I  would  crown  your 
lives  with  stable  felicity  and  glory.  But  nature,  ladies,  has 
irrevocably  fixed  limits,  beyond  which  we  cannot  pass,  and  my 
sphere  of  action  is  far  from  being  large.  My  fortune  is  not  very 
great,  and  thereby  prevents  my  being  so  useful  a  friend  to  you 
as  I  would  willingly  be.  However,  though  it  is  not  in  my  power 
to  do  according  to  my  inclination,  in  regard  to  your  case,  and 
with  security  place  you  in  some  station  fit  for  your  rank  and 
worth,  yet  I  can  bring  you  to  a  spot  of  tranquillity,  and  in  still 
life  enable  you  to  live  without  perplexity  or  care  of  any  kind. 
You  shall  have  peace  and  little,  and  may  perhaps  hereafter  say, 
you  have  enjoyed  more  real  happiness,  for  the  time  you  had 
occasion  to  reside  there,  than  you  could  find  in  the  tumult,  pomp, 
and  grandeur  of  the  world." 

Here  I  gave  the  ladies  an  account  of  Orton-Lodge,  in  the 
northern  extremity  of  Westmoreland,  where  I  had  lived  a  con- 
siderable time,  told  them  the  condition  it  was  in,  the  goods,  the 
books,  the  liquors,  and  other  necessaries  and  conveniencies  that 
were  there,  and  if,  in  that  charming  romantic  spot,  where  no 
mortal  could  come  to  hurt  them,  they  could  bear  to  live  for  a 
while,  I  would  settle  them  there,  and  get  a  man  to  work  in  the 
garden,  and  a  couple  of  maids.  I  would  likewise  procure  for 
them  two  cows,  a  few  lambs,  some  poultry,  and  corn,  and  seeds 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  3 1 5 

for  the  ground  :  in  short,  that  they  should  have  every  thing 
requisite  in  such  a  place  ;  I  would  return  to  them  as  soon  as 
possible  ;  I  would  write  to  them  often,  directing  my  letters  to  the 
nearest  town,  to  be  called  for  by  their  man.  "  What  do  you 
say,  ladies,  to  this  proposal  ?  In  London  it  is  not  possible  for 
you  to  be  :  at  a  farm-house  you  might  have  no  satisfaction  : 
and  any  where  that  was  known  and  frequented,  you  may  be 
liable  to  discovery,  as  COCK,  your  guardian,  will  inquire  every 
where  ;  and  if  he  hears  of  you,  you  will  be  carried  home  most 
certainly  to  his  dismal  habitation,  and  be  used  ten  times  worse 
than  before.  What  do  you  think  then  of  this  scheme  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  they  both  replied,  "  you  are  to  us  a  subaltern  power, 
by  Heaven  sent  to  deliver  us  from  misery,  and  secure  our  happi- 
ness in  this  world.  We  have  not  words  to  express  the  gratitude 
of  our  souls  for  this  further  instance  of  your  goodness  in  the 
offer  you  make  us,  nor  can  it  ever  be  in  our  power  to  make 
you  the  return  it  deserves.  You  will  be  pleased  to  accept  our 
grateful  thanks,  and  all  we  have  to  add  at  present,  our 
prayers  for  your  preservation  and  health.  Conduct  us,  we 
beseech  you,  immediately  to  that  sweet  spot  of  peace  you  have 
described." 

This  being  agreed  on,  the  next  thing  to  be  done  was  to  get 
two  horses  for  the  ladies,  for  mine  were  not  able  to  carry  double 
any  farther,  if  there  had  been  a  turnpike  road  before  us  ;  then 
up  the  mountains  we  were  to  go,  where  no  double  horse  could 
travel ;  and  when  they  were  at  the  Lodge,  they  would  want 
horses  to  ride  sometimes,  or  to  remove,  if  the  necessity  of  their 
case  should  happen  to  require  it :  to  my  landlord  therefore  I 
applied  upon  the  occasion,  and  he  very  quickly  got  me  not  only 
two  pretty  beasts,  but  a  young  labouring  man,  and  two  country 
girls  to  wait  upon  the  ladies.  I  then  sent  to  the  next  town  for  a 
couple  of  side-saddles,  gave  the  servants  directions  to  go  to  the 
Rev.  Mr.  FLEMING'S  house,  to  wait  there  till  they  heard  from 
me,  and  then  we  set  out  for  Orton-Lodge.  Two  days  we  spent 
in  travelling  there,  feeding  on  cold  provisions  we  had  with  us, 
and  lying  a  night  on  the  fern  of  the  mountains.  The  second 
evening  we  arrived  at  the  Lodge.  There  I  found  every  thing 
safe,  and  the  place  as  I  had  left  it.  I  opened  my  various  store- 
houses, to  the  surprise  of  the  young  ladies,  and  brought  them 
many  good  things  ;  biscuits,  potted  char,  potted  black-cocks, 
sweetmeats,  and  liquors  of  various  kinds  ;  O'FiN  likewise  got  us 
a  dish  of  trouts  for  supper,  and  the  two  beauties  and  I  sat  down 
with  cheerfulness  to  our  table.  Vastly  amazed  they  were  at  all 
they  saw.  Every  thing  was  so  good,  and  the  wild  charms  of  the 
place  so  pleasing,  that  they  could  not  but  express  the  transports 
they  were  in  at  their  present  situation.  The  whole  they  said, 
was  charming  as  enchantment,  and  in  language  there  was  not  a 


316  THE  LIFE  OF 


force  sufficient  to  express  their  grateful  sentiments  upon  the 
occasion.  This  gave  me  much  pleasure,  and  till  the  end  of  June, 
I  lived  a  very  happy  life  with  these  fine  young  creatures.  They 
did  all  that  was  possible  to  show  their  esteem  and  gratitude. 
Exclusive  of  their  amazing  fine  faces,  and  persons,  they  were 
ingenious,  gay,  and  engaging,  and  made  every  minute  of  time 
delightful.  If  I  had  not  been  engaged  to  Miss  SPENCE,  I  should 
certainly  have  sat  down  in  peace  with  these  two  young  ladies, 
and  with  them  connected,  have  looked  upon  Orton-Lodge  as  the 
Garden  of  Eden.  They  were  both  most  charming  women. 
Miss  LLANDSOY  was  a  perfect  divinity  ! 


On  the  first  of  July,  just  as  the  day  was  breaking,  I  mounted 
my  horse,  and  again  left  Orton-Lodge.  The  morning  being 
extremely  fine,  and  every  thing  appearing  in  the  loveliness  of 
Nature,  I  rode  on  softly  for  three  or  four  hours,  and  was  so  de- 
lighted with  the  beauty  and  infinite  variety  of  enchanting  ob- 
jects my  eyes  were  feasted  with,  that  heedlessly  instead  of  coming 
to  the  turning  that  was  my  road,  I  got  into  a  bending  valley, 
which  ended  at  a  range  of  rocky  mountains.  For  half  an  hour 
I  travelled  by  the  bottom  of  these  frightful  hills,  and  came  at 
length  to  a  pass  through  them,  but  so  narrow,  that  the  beasts 
had  not  above  an  inch  or  two  to  spare  on  each  side.  It  was  dark 
as  the  blackest  night  in  this  opening,  and  a  stream  came  from  it, 
by  the  waters  falling  in  several  places  from  the  top  of  the  high 
inclosing  precipices.  It  was  the  most  shocking  foot-way  I  had 
ever  seen,  and  therefore  requested  O'FiN,  as  the  bottom  was  hard, 
to  try  where  the  pass  ended  and  let  me  know  what  kind  of  coun- 
try and  inhabitants  were  beyond  it  ?  "  That  I  will,"  said  O'FiN, 
and  immediately  entered  the  cleft  or  crevice  between  the  moun- 
tains. A  couple  of  hours  I  allowed  my  adventurer  to  explore 
this  dark  way,  but  if  in  that  time  he  could  make  nothing  of  it, 
then  his  orders  were  to  return  :  but  there  was  no  sign  of  him  at 
the  end  of  six  hours,  and  I  began  to  fear  he  had  got  into  some 
pound.  After  him  then  I  went,  about  one  o'clock,  and  for  near 
half  a  mile,  the  narrow  way  was  directly  forward,  a  rough  bot- 
tom, and  ankle  deep  in  water  ;  but  it  ended  in  a  fine  flowery 
green  of  about  twenty  acres,  surrounded  with  steep  rocky  hills 
which  it  was  impossible  to  ascend.  In  walking  up  to  the  preci- 
pice before  me,  I  found  many  caverns,  which  extended  on  either 
hand,  and  onwards,  into  a  vast  variety  of  caves  ;  some  of  them 
having  high  arched  openings  for  entrance,  and  others  only  holes 
to  creep  in  at ;  but  all  of  them  spacious  within,  and  high  enough 
for  the  tallest  man  to  walk  in. 

In  these  dismal  chambers  I  apprehended  my  fellow  had  lost 
himself,  and  therefore  went  into  them  as  far  as  I  could  venture, 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  317 

without  losing  sight  of  day,  and  cried  out  FIN  !  FIN  !  but  could 
hear  no  sound  in  return.  This  was  a  great  trouble  to  me,  and 
I  knew  not  what  to  do.  Back  however  I  must  go  to  my  horses, 
and  after  I  had  spent  two  hours  in  searching,  shouting,  and 
expecting  my  lad's  return,  by  some  means  or  other,  I  was  just 
going  to  walk  towards  the  crevice,  or  dark  narrow  pass  I  had 
come  through  to  this  place,  when  casting  my  eyes  once  more 
towards  the  caverns  in  the  mountains,  I  saw  my  boy  come  out, 
leaping  and  singing  for  joy.  He  told  me,  he  never  expected  to  see 
daylight  more  :  for  after  he  had  foolishly  gone  too  far  into  the 
caves,  till  he  was  quite  in  the  dark,  in  hopes  of  finding  a  passage 
through  the  mountain  to  some  open  country,  he  was  obliged 
to  wander  from  chamber  to  chamber,  he  knew  not  where,  for 
many  hours,  without  one  ray  of  light,  and  with  very  little  ex- 
pectation of  deliverance  ;  that  he  did  nothing  but  cry  and  roar, 
and  was  hardly  able  to  stand  on  his  legs  any  longer,  when  by  a 
chance  turn  into  a  cave,  he  saw  some  light  again,  and  then  soon 
found  his  way  out.  Poor  fellow  !  he  was  in  a  sad  condition,  and 
his  escape  was  very  wonderful. 

After  this,  we  made  what  haste  we  could  to  our  horses,  which 
we  had  left  feeding  in  the  vale  ;  and  O'FiN  brought  me  some 
cold  provisions  from  his  wallet  for  my  dinner.  I  dined  with 
great  pleasure,  on  account  of  the  recovery  of  my  lad,  and  when 
we  had  both  recruited  and  rested  sufficiently,  on  we  went  again. 
We  found  the  valley  winded  about  the  mountains  for  three  miles, 
and  then  ended  at  the  highest  hill  I  had  ever  seen,  but  which  it 
was  possible  to  ascend.  With  great  difficulty  we  and  our  horses 
got  to  the  top  of  it,  and  down  on  the  other  side.  Six  mountains 
of  the  same  height,  whose  tops  were  above  the  clouds,  we  had  to 
cross,  and  then  arrived  at  a  bottom,  which  formed  a  most  de- 
lightful scene. 

The  Vale  of  Keswick,  and  Lake  of  Derwentwater,  in  Cumber- 
land, are  thought  by  those  who  have  been  there,  to  be  the  finest 
point  of  view  in  England,  and  extremely  beautiful  they  are, 
far  more  so  than  the  Rev.  Dr.  Dalton  has  been  able  to  make 
them  appear  in  his  Descriptive  Poem,  addressed  to  two  ladies, 
the  late  excellent  Lord  Lonsdale's  charming  daughters,  on  their 
return  from  viewing  the  coal-mines,  near  Whitehaven  ;  or  than 
the  Doctor's  brother,  Mr.  Dalton,  has  painted  them  in  his  fine 
drawings  ;  and  yet  they  are  inferior  in  charms  to  the  vale,  the 
lake,  the  brooks,  the  shaded  sides  of  the  surrounding  mountains, 
and  the  tuneful  falls  of  water,  to  which  we  came  in  Westmore- 
land. In  all  the  world,  I  believe,  there  is  not  a  more  glorious 
rural  scene  to  be  seen,  in  the  fine  time  of  the  year. 

In  this  charming  vale,  I  found  one  pretty  little  house,  which 
had  gardens  very  beautifully  laid  out,  and  usefully  filled  with 
the  finest  dwarf  fruit  trees  and  ever-greens,  vegetables,  herbs, 


ji8  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  shrubs.  The  mansion,  and  the  improved  spot  of  ground, 
were  at  the  end  of  the  beautiful  lake,  so  as  to  have  the  whole 
delightful  piece  of  water  before  the  door.  The  projecting  shaded 
fells  seemed  to  nod  or  hang  over  the  habitation,  and  on  either 
hand,  a  few  yards  from  the  front  of  the  house,  cascades  much 
higher  than  that  of  dread  Lodore,  in  Cumberland,  fell  into  the 
lake.  There  is  not  any  thing  so  beautiful  and  striking  as  the 
whole  in  any  part  of  the  globe  that  I  have  seen  :  and  I  have  been 
in  higher  latitudes,  north  and  south,  than  most  men  living.  I 
have  conversed  with  nations  who  live  many  degrees  beyond  the 
poor  frozen  Laplander  ;  and  have  travelled  among  the  barbarians 
who  scorch  beneath  the  burning  zone. 

Who  lived  in  this  delightful  valley,  was,  in  the  next  place, 
my  inquiry,  after  I  had  admired  for  an  hour  the  amazing  beau- 
ties of  the  place.  I  walked  up  to  the  house,  and  in  one  of  the 
parlour  windows,  that  had  a  view  up  the  loch,  I  saw  a  young 
beauty  sitting  with  a  music-book  in  her  hand,  and  heard  her  sing 
in  a  masterly  manner.  She  could  not  see  me,  but  I  had  a  full 
view  of  her  fine  face,  and  as  I  remembered  to  have  seen  her  some- 
where, I  stood  gazing  at  her  with  wonder  and  delight,  endeavour- 
ing to  recollect  where  I  had  been  in  her  company,  when  another 
young  one  came  into  the  room,  whom  I  had  reason  to  remember 
very  well,  on  account  of  an  accident,  and  then  I  knew  they  were 
the  two  young  ladies  I  had  seen  at  Mr.  Harcourt's,  and  admired 
very  greatly  for  the  charms  of  their  persons,  and  the  beauties 
of  their  minds.  Upon  this  I  walked  up  to  the  window,  and  after 
a  little  astonishment  at  seeing  me,  they  behaved  with  the  greatest 
civility,  and  seemed  to  be  highly  pleased  with  the  accidental 
meeting.  While  we  were  talking,  their  mamma  came  into  the 
apartment,  and  on  their  letting  her  know  who  I  was,  and  where 
they  had  been  acquainted  with  me,  the  old  lady  was  pleased  to 
ask  me  to  stay  at  her  house  that  night,  and  to  assure  me  she 
was  glad  to  see  me,  as  she  had  often  heard  her  daughters  speak 
of  me.  Three  days  I  passed  with  great  pleasure  in  this  place 
and  then  with  much  regret  took  my  leave. 

The  fifth  of  July  I  left  Mrs.  THURLOE'S,  and  by  the  assistance 
of  a  guide,  had  a  fine  ride  to  the  house  of  Friar  FLEMING,  in 
Richmondshire,  where  I  arrived  by  noon.  I  dined  with  this 
good  Franciscan,  and  should  have  lain  there  that  night,  but 
that  I  could  not  help  being  melancholy,  on  missing  my  dear 
friend  TOM,  the  monk's  brother,  who  died  of  a  fever,  as  before 
related.  From  him  then  I  parted  in  the  evening,  and  rode  to  a 
Carthusian  monastry,  which  consisted  of  seven  monks,  men  of 
some  estate,  who  had  agreed  to  live  together  in  this  remote 
place,  and  pass  their  lives  in  piety,  study,  and  gardening.  I 
had  a  letter  from  FLEMING  to  one  of  these  gentlemen,  the  superior, 
letting  him  know  I  was  his  near  friend,  and  desiring  he  would 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  319 

receive  me  as  himself  ;  that,  although  a  protestant,  I  was  of  no 
party,  but  in  charity  with  all  mankind.  This  letter  procured 
me  all  the  kindness  and  honours  these  gentlemen  could  show 
me.  They  behaved  with  great  civility  and  tenderness,  and  gave 
me  the  best  they  had,  good  fish,  good  bread,  good  wine,  ex- 
cellent fruit,  and  fine  vegetables  ;  for  as  to  flesh,  they  never  eat 
any,  by  their  rule. 

They  were  all  learned  and  devout  men,  very  grave  and  silent 
for  the  most  part,  except  when  visited,  but  without  anything 
stiff  or  morose  in  their  manner.  They  had  a  large  collection 
of  books,  and  seemed  to  understand  them  well.  What  time 
they  had  to  spare  from  the  hours  of  divine  service,  and  working 
in  their  gardens,  according  to  the  rule  of  St.  BRUNO,  which  they 
follow,  they  give  to  study,  and  had  many  volumes  of  their  own 
writing  ;  but  mostly  old  manuscripts  which  they  had  transcribed, 
in  Greek,  Latin,  and  French.  Making  such  copies  was  their 
principal  work  in  the  closet. 

I  stayed  two  days  with  these  gentlemen,  and  had  a  good  deal 
of  useful  conversation  with  them,  on  various  subjects.  On 
looking  into  the  writings  of  the  Rabbies,  which  I  saw  in  their 
library,  I  told  one  of  these  Chartreux,  that  it  was  a  wonder  to  me, 
that  any  one  read  such  extravagant  fabulous  relations  and 
despicable  fictions  as  these  books  contained,  and  should  be  glad 
to  know,  what  good  could  be  extracted  from  them. 

The  Friar  replied,  that  notwithstanding  their  being  fictitious 
and  extravagant  to  a  high  degree,  yet  great  use  might  be  made 
of  the  works  of  the  Rabbies,  and  especially  of  the  Talmud  of 
Babylon.  *  We  obtain  from  thence  a  knowledge  of  the  cus- 


*  Reader,  that  you  may  the  better  understand  the  conversation  I  had  with  this  learned 
Carthusian,  I  must  inform  you  what  the  Talmud,  and  other  writings  of  the  Rabbies  are. 

The  Talmud,  a  celebrated  piece  of  Jewish  literature,  full  of  Rabinical  domination  and 
enthusiasm.  The  Rabbins  pretend,  that  this  book  contains  the  Oral  laws,  and  other  secrets . 
which  God  communicated  to  Moses.  It  consists  of  two  parts,  each  of  which  is  divided  into 
several  books.  In  the  first  part,  which  they  call  Mfshna,  is  the  text.  In  the  other,  is  a  sort 
of  comment  on  the  text,  and  this  is  stiled  the  Gemma. 

This  oral  law,  or  tradition  of  the  Jews,  was  collected  after  the  destruction  of  the  Temple, 
A.D.  150,  by  Rabbi  Judah,  and  is  by  them  preferred  before  the  scripture.  They  suppose 
it  was  orally  delivered  by  Moses  to  Israel,  and  unlawful  to  be  written  ;  but  when  Jerusalem 
was  destroyed,  they  were  constrained  to  write  it,  least  it  should  be  lost ;  but  yet  it  is  so  written, 
as  that  none  but  themselves  might  understand  it.— This  Mishna  and  Gemara  complete  the 
two  Talmuds  ;  that  of  Jerusalem,  A.D.  230  ;  and  that  of  Babylon,  five  hundred  years  after 
Christ.  Many  parts  of  these  Talmuds  are  translated  by  several  learned  men,  who  have 
endeavoured  to  render  them  intelligible  :  but  in  order  to  understand  them  fully,  you  must 
read  the  Jad  Chaska,  or  Mishna  Torah  of  Moses  Maimonides,  who  was  physician  to  the  king 
of  Egypt  about  six  hundred  years  ago.  This  Rabbi  hath  comprized  the  substance  of  the 
Mishna  and  Gemara  of  the  Talmud,  in  his  books,  and  enabled  us  to  understand  all  the  Mishna 
with  ease  and  pleasure.  See  likewise  the  Clavis  Talmudica,  Cock's  Excerpta,  and  the  works 
of  the  excel  v  ut  Ludovicus  de  Campeigne  du  Veil,  who  had  been  a  Jew,  but  after  becoming 
a  Roman  Catholic,  went  over  to  the  Church  of  England,  in  which  he  continued  for  several 
years  in  the  character  of  a  great  divine :  but  at  last  turned  Baptist,  and  died  a  member 
of  that  Christian  Church  ;  which  lost  him  all  his  friends  and  interest.  He  died  the  beginning 
of  this  century,  with  the  reputation  of  an  upright  Christian  and  a  most  learned  man.  There 
is  no  tolerable  account  given  of  him  in  any  of  the  Biographical  Dictionaries.  What  they 


320  THE  LIFE  OF 


toms  and  opinions  of  the  Jews,  which  afford  some  benefit.  In 
the  next  place,  they  serve  to  the  confirmation  of  the  history  of 
Jesus  Christ ;  for  it  appears  by  the  Babylonish  Talmud,  that 
there  was  one  Jesus,  who  had  disciples,  lived  in  such  and  such 
a  place,  and  did  and  said  divers  things  ;  and  in  the  Bible  many 
texts  relating  to  the  Messias  are  confirmed  and  explained  by 
these  books  of  the  Rabbies,  though  not  by  them  intended.  This 
I  have  since  found  to  be  the  truth  of  the  case.  I  have  read  the 
works  of  the  Rabbins  since,  and  find  it  to  be  as  the  Carthusian 
said.  For  example — 

It  is  said  in  Genesis  ch.  iii.  v.  15.  "I  will  put  enmity  between 
thy  seed  and  her  seed.  It  shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  thou  shalt 
bruise  his  heel."  Now  the  Tar  gum  of  Onkelos  gives  the  sense 
thus  :  The  man  shall  be  mindful  of,  or  remember,  what  thou 
(Satan)  hast  done  to  him  in  times  past,  and  thou  shalt  observe, 
watch  or  haunt  him  till  the  end  of  days  ;  that  is,  the  serpent  or 
devil  should  pursue  and  have  dominion  over  the  world  till  the 
last  days,  and  then  the  prince  of  this  world  should  be  cast  out, 
and  the  works  of  the  devil  destroyed.  Beacharith  Heyamin, 
the  end  of  days,  or  last  days,  is,  by  a  general  rule,  given  by  the 
most  learned  Rabbins,  meant  of  the  Messias.  So  Kimchi  on 
Isaiah,  ch.  ii.  v.  2. — and  Abarbriel  and  R.  Moses  Nachm  on 
Genesis,  xlix.  v.  i.  inform  us. 

It  is  likewise  very  remarkable,  that  the  Tar  gum  of  Jerusalem, 
and  that  of  Jonathan  Ben  Uziel,  apply  this  place  to  the  coming 
of  the  Messias.  They  give  the  words  the  following  sense.  I 
will  put  enmity  between  thy  seed  and  her  seed  ;  when  the  sons 
of  the  woman  keep  my  law,  they  shall  bruise  thy  head,  and  when 
they  break  my  law,  thou  shalt  bruise  their  heel ;  but  the  wound 
given  to  the  seed  of  the  woman,  shall  be  healed,  but  thine  shall 
be  incurable  ;  they  shall  be  healed  in  the  last  days,  in  the  days 
of  the  Messias.  Such  is  the  opinion  of  the  most  learned  Jews  : 
and  from  thence  it  follows,  that  the  Christians  have  not  put 
their  sense  upon  the  text  I  have  cited  to  serve  their  own  turn  ; 
the  Rabbins,  we  see,  give  the  very  same  meaning  to  the  place. 

Again  in  Numbers,  ch.  xxiv.  v.  17,  we  have  the  famous  pro- 
phecy of  Balaam  :  "  There  shall  come  a  star  out  of  Jacob,  and 
a  sceptre  shall  rise  out  of  Israel,"  and  in  Isaiah,  ch.  xi.v.  1.  it  is  writ- 
ten. "  And  there  shall  come  forth  a  rod  out  of  the  stem  of 
Jesse,  and  a  branch  shall  grow  out  of  his  roots,  and  the  spirit 
of  the  Lord  shall  rest  upon  him."  And  in  Jeremiah,  ch.  xxiii. 
vv.  5,6.  "  Behold  the  days  shall  come,  saith  the  Lord,  that  I  will 
raise  unto  David  a  righteous  branch, — and  this  is  his  name  where- 

say  is  short  and  next  to  nothing.  And  the  Popish  accounts  are  not  only  short,  but  false,  and 
sheer  calumny.  I  took  much  pains  some  years  ago,  to  collect  among  the  Baptists,  and  from 
others  who  knew  this  great  man,  everything  I  could  get  relating  to  him  and  his  works,  and 
formed  what  I  had  got  into  a  life  of  him,  which  I  did  intend  to  insert  in  this  place  :  but  by 
some  accident  or  other,  it  is  gone.  I  cannot  find  it  anywhere. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  321 

by  he  shall  be  called,  The  Lord  our  Righteousness."  That  the 
Christians  apply  these  texts  to  the  Messias,  I  need  not  inform 
the  reader  :  but  it  must  be  grateful  to  observe,  that  the  para- 
phrases of  Onkelos,  Jonathan,  and  Jerusalem,  all  of  them  ex- 
pressly attribute  the  prophecy  of  Balaam  to  the  Messias.  And 
Rabbi  Moses  Hadarsan  and  Maimon,  say,  he  is  here  called  a 
Star,  which  signifies  what  5  Malachi  expresses  by  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness,  Mai.  ch.  iv.  v.  2 ;  and  Zachariah  by  the  East,  "  I 
will  bring  forth  my  servant  the  East."  Zach.  ch.  hi.  v.  8.  as  it 
is  translated  in  the  Vulgat,  Septuagint,  Arabic,  and  Syriac,  is 
here,  say  these  Rabbins,  called  a  Star,  because  he  should  come 
and  destroy  idolatry,  among  the  heathen  nations,  by  becoming 
a  light  to  the  Gentiles,  and  the  glory  of  Israel. 

As  to  the  other  two  texts,  the  Jews  do  likewise  attribute  them 
to  the  Messias.  Rabbi  Joseph  Albo,  speaking  of  the  words, 
"  The  Lord  our  Righteousness,"  in  particular,  says  expressly, 
that  this  is  one  name  given  to  the  Messias.  Albo,  Sep.  ikker.  lib. 
2.  c.  28.  Thus  do  the  Jews  concur  with  us  in  the  application  of 
texts  to  the  Messias.  But  what  is  become  of  this  Messias,  they 
cannot  tell.  They  are  amazed,  perplexed,  and  confounded  at 
him.  They  dispute  on  the  article,  and  have  the  wildest  fancies 
in  relation  to  it.  Whereas  the  Christians  give  a  clear  and  con- 
sistent account  of  the  Messias,  and  by  every  argument  that 
can  be  desired  by  a  rational,  prove  the  truth  of  Christianity. 

Again  :  in  Isaiah  ch.  ix.  v.  6  we  have  these  words  ;  "  Unto  us 
a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is  given,  and  the  government  shall 
be  upon  his  shoulders  :  and  his  name  shall  be  called  Wonderful, 
Counsellor,  the  Mighty  God,  the  Everlasting  Father,  the  Prince 
of  Peace."  Or  as  the  Alexandrian  Manuscript  hath  it,  "  He 
shall  call  his  name  the  Angel,  Wonderful,  Counsellor,  Mighty, 
the  Governor,  the  Prince  of  Peace,  the  Father  of  the  age  to  come." 
This  is  thought  by  all  Christians  to  be  a  plain  declaration  of  the 
Messias  ;  for  to  apply  it  to  any  mere  mortal,  as  to  Hezekiah,  or 
Isaiah's  son,  cannot  be  done  without  the  greatest  absurdity, 
and  therefore  Ben  Maimon,  Epist.  ad  Afric,  fairly  yields  that 
these  words  belong  to  the  Messias,  and  so  doth  Jonathan  Ben 
Uziel  in  his  Chaldee  paraphrase.  The  Talmud  itself  allows  it. 
Tract.  Sanhedrim,  that  it  relates  to  a  person  not  come  in  the 
time  of  the  prophets,  but  to  the  man,  whose  name  is  the  "  Branch, 
which  was  to  come  forth  out  of  the  stem  of  Jesse,  and  to  grow 
out  of  his  roots.  My  servant  the  Branch.  Behold  the  man 
whose  name  is  the  Branch."  Zach.  ch.  iii.  v.  8.  and  ch.  xii.  and 
Isaiah  ch.  iv.  v.  1.  "  Even  the  person  that  shall  be  sent ;  "  Shilo, 
that  remarkable  person  God  had  promised  to  his  people.  So 
says  the  Talmud. 

But  further  ;  as  to  the  birth  of  the  Messias,  in  respect  of  the 


322  THE  LIFE  OF 


manner  and   the   place,   it  is  thus   set   down  by  the  prophet 
Mieah,  v.  2,     "  And  thou  Bethlehem  Ephrata,  though  thou  be 
little  among  the  thousands  of  Judah,  yet  out  of  thee  shall  come 
forth  unto  me,  that  is  to  be  ruler  in  Israel ;  whose  goings  forth 
have    been   of   old,    even    from    everlasting."     And    in    Isaiah, 
ch.  vii.  v.  14,  are  these  words,  "  Behold  a  virgin  shall  conceive 
and  bring  forth  a  son,  and  call  his  name  Immanuel."     In  these 
two  texts,  the  Christians  say,  the  place  of  the  birth  of  the  Messias, 
and  the  manner  of  it,  are  as  plainly  described  as  words  can  do  ; 
and  if  they  cannot,  without  absurdity,  be  explained  as  relating 
to  any  other  person,  then  it  must  be  perverting  the  meaning  of 
the  records  to  oppose  this  explication  :    but  this  the  Jews  are 
far  from  doing.     The  place  is  acknowledged  in  the  Talmud,  in 
the  Chaldee  paraphrase  of  Jonathan,  and  all  their  most  famous 
masters  declare  with  one  voice,  that  Bethlehem  indisputably 
belongs  to  the  Messias.     "  Exte  Bethlehem  coram  me  prodibit 
Messias,  ut  sit  dominium  exercens  in  Israel,  cujus  nomen  dictum 
est  ab  aeternitate,  a  Diebus  seculi."     Talmud,  lib.  Sanhedrim, 
et  Midrasch.     The  hillinic  Rabbi  Selemoh,  Paraph.  Jonath.  in 
Loc.  Rabbi  David  Kimchi.     And  as  to  the  manner,  though  it  be 
true  that  some  Jews  say,  the  Hebrew  word  Gnalma  signifies  a 
young  woman  as  well  as  a  virgin  ;  yet  Kimchi,  Jarchi,  and  Sele- 
moh, three  of  their  greatest  Rabbins,  confess  that  here  is  some- 
thing wonderful  presaged  in  the  birth  and  generation  of  this 
person,  and  that  he  was  not  to  be  born  as  other  men  and  women 
are  born.     What  can  we  desire  more,  in  the  case,  from  an  enemy  ? 
And  in  truth,  the  behold,  or  wonder,  with  which  the  text  begins, 
would  be  nothing,  if  it  was  only  that  a  young  woman  should 
have  a  child  :  and  as  to  the  Hebrew  word  Gnalmah,  if  it  ever 
does  signify  a   young  woman,  which  I   very  much  doubt,  yet 
the  translation  of  the  Seventy,  who  well  understood  the  original 
surely,  they  render  the  word  by  parthenos,  irap^vos  in  Greek,  which 
always  signifies  a  virgin  in  the  strict  propriety  of  the  phrase. 
And  in  the  Punic  language,  which  is  much  the  same  as  the 
Hebrew,  the  word  Alma  signifies  a  virgin,  "  virgo  intacta,"  and 
never  means  a  young  woman. 

Such  are  the  advantages  we  may  gain  by  reading  the  books 
of  the  Rabbins  ;  and  to  me  it  is  pleasing  to  see  these  great  Hebrew 
masters  granting  so  much  to  us  for  our  Messias,  while  they  hate 
our  holy  religion  beyond  every  thing.  Even  the  gay  among 
the  Jews,  if  I  have  been  truly  informed  by  one  who  danced  a 
night  with  them,  have,  in  contempt  and  abhorrence  of  our  faith, 
a  country-dance  called  "  The  Little  Jesus." 

The  eighth  of  July,  I  left  the  little  Chartreuse,  and  went  from 
thence  to  Knaresborough,  where  I  arrived  that  night,  and  re- 
sided three  days.  It  is  a  fine  old  town,  and  borough  by  prescrip- 
t  ion,  in  the  West-riding  of  Yorkshire,  and  wapentake  of  Claro. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  323 

The  vast  hills  of  Craven  look  beautifully  wild  in  its  neighbour- 
hood, and  the  rapid  river  Nid,  which  issues  from  the  bottom 
of  those  mountains,  almost  encompasses  the  town.  It  is  a  hun- 
dred and  seventy  five  measured  miles  from  London,  and  the  best 
way  to  it  is  from  Ferrybridge  to  Wether  by,  by  the  left-hand  road, 
where  there  is  an  excellent  inn,  and  from  that  to  Knaresborough. 

When  this  very  ancient  town  passed  from  the  posterity  of 
Surlo  de  Burgh,  the  founder  of  it,  we  know  not,  but  we  find  that 
Henry  III  granted  the  honour,  castle,  and  manor,  to  the  Earl 
of  Kent,  Margaret  his  wife,  and  their  issue  and  heirs,  and  that 
on  failure  of  issue  and  right  heirs,  it  returned^again  to  the  crown  ; 
for  Edward  II,  among  other  lands,  gave  this  lordship  of  Knares- 
borough to  his  favourite  Pierse  de  Gaveston,  Earl  of  Cornwall, 
and  his  heirs.  Gaveston  was  taken  not  long  after  by  the  Barons, 
in  Scarborough  castle,  after  a  short  siege,  and  was  beheaded  on 
Gaversly-heath,  near  Warwick,  by  order  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick, 
June  20,  1312.  On  the  fall  of  the  insolent  Gaveston,  who  had 
been  banished  by  Edward  I  but  recalled,  ere  that  monarch's 
funeral  rites  were  performed,  by  the  weak  and  inefficient 
Edward  II,  whose  interest  becoming  blended  with  that  of  his 
favourite,  rendered  the  public  displeasure  against  Gaveston  the 
want  of  duty  to  the  prince,  and  which  eventually  in  his  death 
involved  the  ruin  of  his  Sovereign  ;  Knaresborough  again  reverted 
to  the  Crown,  and  so  continued  till  the  forty-fourth  of  Edward 
III,  when  this  king  made  a  grant  of  the  honour,  castle,  and  manor 
of  the  town,  and  the  cell  of  St.  Roberts,  to  John  of  Gaunt,  the 
king's  fourth  son,  who  was  Earl  of  Richmond,  and  created  Duke 
of  Lancaster,  on  his  having  married  one  of  the  coheiresses  of 
Henry,  Duke  of  Lancaster.  Other  great  estates  were  likewise 
given  at  the  same  time  to  this  fourth  son  of  Edward,  that  he 
might  maintain  his  grandeur  :  and  ever  since,  this  town  has 
belonged  to  the  dutchy  of  Lancaster.  It  is  an  appendage  to  the 
crown. 

Not  far  from  this  town  are  two  wells,  as  strong  of  sulphur  as 
Harrogate-water,  and  as  valuable,  though  no  one  takes  any 
notice  of  them.  One  lies  in  the  way  to  Harrogate,  in  a  low 
ground  by  a  brook-side.  The  other  is  Bitton-spa,  in  a  park  by 
Mr.  Staughton's  house. 

As  to  the  famous  dropping-well  or  petrifying  water,  it  lies 
on  the  west  side  of  the  town  and  river,  about  twenty-six  yards 
from  the  bank  of  the  Nid,  and  it  rises  fifteen  yards  below  the 
top  of  a  mountain  of  marie  stone,  and  in  four  falls,  of  about 
two  yards  each  fall,  comes  to  an  easy  ascent,  where  it  spreads 
upon  the  top  of  an  isthmus  of  a  petrified  rock,  generated  out 
of  the  water,  which  falls  down  round  it.  This  isthmus  or  rock 
is  ten  yards  high,  and  hangs  over  its  base  or  bottom  about  five 
yards.  It  is  near  sixteen  yards  long  and  thirteen  broad,  and 


324  THE  LIFE  OF 


as  it  started  from  the  bank  about  fifty  years  ago,  leaves  a  chasm 
between  them,  that  is  about  three  yards  wide.  In  this  chasm, 
you  will  find  petrified  twigs  of  trees,  shrubs,  and  grass-roots, 
hanging  in  most  beautiful  pillars,  all  interwoven,  and  forming 
many  charming  figures  ;  and  on  the  common  side  are  whole 
banks  like  stalactites,  hard  and  inseparable  from  the  rock, 
where  the  water  trickles  down.  These  petref actions,  the  falling 
water,  and  the  little  isthmus  or  island  being  beautifully  clothed 
with  ash,  osier,  elm,  sambucus,  servicana  major,  geraniums, 
wood-mercury,  hart's-tongue,  sage,  lady's  mantle,  cowslips, 
wild  angelica,  &c.,  form  altogether  a  delightful  scene.  The  first 
spring  of  this  water  is  out  of  a  small  hole  on  the  little  mountain, 
in  the  middle  of  a  thick-set  of  shrubs.  It  sends  out  twenty 
gallons  in  a  minute  of  the  sweetest  water  in  the  world,  and 
twenty-four  grains  in  a  pint  heavier  than  common  water. 

Most  people  are  of  opinion,  that  petrifying  water  is  dangerous 
drink,  and  may  produce  abundance  of  mischief,  in  causing  the 
stone  and  gravel  in  the  body  :  the  original  particles  or  principles 
of  the  stony  substance  called  spar,  which  are  in  abundance  sus- 
pended in  this  kind  of  water,  must  get  into  the  flood-gates  of  the 
kidneys  and  ureters,  as  they  opine,  and  create  great  misery  in  a 
little  time. 

But  this  fear  of  petrefactions  in  living  animal  bodies  is  grounded 
upon  neither  reason  nor  experience  ;  for  the  spar  in  these  waters 
forms  no  petrefactions  whilst  in  a  brisk  motion,  or  in  a  tem- 
perate season,  or  on  vegetables  while  they  preserve  their  vege- 
tating life.  While  there  is  warmth  and  circulation  of  juices, 
there  can  be  no  incrustation  or  petrefaction  from  the  suspended 
stony  particles.  Besides,  if  the  minims  of  spar  are  not  within 
the  spheres  of  sensible  attraction,  whilst  in  motion  ;  much  less 
are  they  so  when  mingled  with  the  fluids  of  the  human  body  : 
you  may  therefore  very  safely  drink  these  limpid  petrifying 
waters  at  all  times,  as  a  common  fluid,  if  they  come  in  your  way, 
as  the  best,  and  most  grateful  or  pleasant  water  in  the  world, 
on  account  of  the  infinitesimals,  or  original  leasts,  of  spar  that 
are  in  them,  in  vast  quantities,  but  infinitely  small  particles  : 
and  if  you  are  sick,  in  many  cases  they  are  the  best  of  medicines. 
Human  invention  has  nothing  equal  to  them  for  fluxes  of  any 
part  of  the  body,  or  colliquations  from  an  acid  salt.  So  far 
are  they  from  being  in  the  least  dangerous,  that  in  all  unnatural 
discharges,  by  spitting,  stool,  or  urine ;  by  excessive  menstrual 
or  haemorrhoidal  fluxes,  in  the  fluor  albus,  diabetes,  profuse 
sweatings  ;  in  the  diarrhoea,  dysentry,  or  h'enteria  where  the 
springs  are  not  quite  worn  out ;  in  mcers  of  the  viscera,  hectic 
fevers,  atrophy,  and  colliquations  or  night  sweats,  there  is  not 
any  thing  in  physic  more  profitable  or  pleasant,  to  recover  a 
patient.  Let  your  dose,  in  such  cases,  be  three  half-pints  of 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  325 

Knaresborough  dropping- well  in  the  forenoon  ;  and  before  you 
begin  to  drink  this  water,  remember  to  take  two  doses  of  rhu- 
barb, to  cleanse  off  the  excrements  of  the  first  viscera.  You 
must  not  drink  ale,  drams,  or  punch,  during  a  course  of  these 
waters  :  and  take  but  very  little  red  port.  You  must  likewise 
have  a  strict  regard  to  diet.  Let  it  be  milk,  eggs,  jellies,  barley- 
broth,  chickens,  kid,  lamb,  and  the  like.  You  must  avoid  all 
salt,  sharp,  stimulating  things,  day-sleep,  and  night-air ;  but 
agreeable  conversation,  and  diversions  that  require  very  little 
exercise,  conduce  to  the  success  of  this  kind  of  water,  in  the 
distempers  I  have  mentioned.  If  such  diseases  are  curable, 
you  may  expect  a  restoration  of  health. 

But,  in  the  dropsy,  jaundice,  diminished  or  irregular  menses  ; 
in  hyppo,  melancholy,  stuffings  of  the  lungs,  obstructions  of  the 
viscera,  stoppages  of  the  lacteals  and  misentery,  glandular  swell- 
ings, king's-evil,  or  any  case,  where  thinning,  relaxing,  opening, 
deterging,  attenuation  or  stimulation  are  wanting,  such  water  is 
death. 

Note,  reader,  there  is  another  excellent  petrifying-water  at 
Newton-Dale  in  Yorkshire,  N.  R.  thirteen  miles  from  Scar- 
borough. Another  near  Castle-Howard,  the  fine  seat  of  the 
Earl  of  Carlisle,  ten  miles  from  York.  Another,  near  Skipton 
in  that  rough,  romantic,  wild  and  silent  country,  called  Craven, 
in  the  West-riding  of  Yorkshire.  And  one,  called  Bandwell, 
at  Stonefield  in  Lincolnshire,  west  of  Horncastle,  which  is  a 
hundred  and  twenty-two  miles  from  London.  These  springs, 
and  many  that  are  not  to  be  come  at  among  the  vast  fells  of 
Westmoreland,  and  the  high  mountains  of  Stanemore,  have  all 
the  virtues  of  Knaresborough  dropping-well ;  though  Knaresbor- 
ough-water  is  the  only  one  resorted  to  by  company  :  and  as  to  this 
spring,  I  can  affirm  from  my  own  knowledge,  that  it  is  as  ex- 
cellent, and  truly  medicinal,  as  the  famous  petrifying-water  at 
Clermont.  There  is  no  manner  of  need  for  Britons  going  to 
the  mountain  Gregoire  in  Basse- Auvergne. 

A     POSTILLA,  * 

Containing  an  Account  of  Wardrew  Sulphur-water  ;  the  Life 
of  Claudius  Hobart ;  and  A  Dissertation  on  Reason  and  Reve- 
lation. 

In  my  account  of  sulphur- waters,  I  forgot  to  mention  on« 

*  A  Postilla,  reader,  is  a  barbarous  word  made  up  of  the  words  post  ilia,  and  was  brought 
into  use  in  the  twelfth  century,  when  the  marginal  explicators  of  the  Bible  left  the  margins 
and  under  their  text  writ  short  and  literal  notes,  before  which  they  put  the  word  postilla 
instead  of  the  words  post  ilia,  meaning  the  particular  words  in  the  text,  from  whence,  by  a 
letter,  they  referred  to  the  little  note  below :   but  in  the  thirteenth  century,  the  barbarou 
word  took  so  much,  that  all  the  commentators  following,  appropriated  the  name  to  their 
most  copious  commentaries,  contrary  to  the  first  practice  in  the  use  of  the  word,  and  for 
three  centuries  after  the  biblical  learning  was  all  postilla,  till  at  length  the  word  disappeared , 
according  to  the  wonted  inconstancy  and  agitation  of  all  human  things,  and  gave  place  to  a 
new  and  fifth  invention,  called  tractatus,  or  homily.    Thii  is  the  history  of  a  POSTILLA. 


326  THE  LIFE  OF 


very  extraordinary  spring  of  this  kind,  and  therefore,  make  a 
postilla  of  it  here,  that  the  reader  may  find  in  one  section  all  I 
have  to  say  on  mineral  waters.  And  as  I  found  by  the  side  of 
this  water,  a  man  as  extraordinary  as  the  spring,  I  shall  add  his 
life  to  my  account  of  the  water,  and  a  couple  of  little  pieces 
written  by  him. 

In  Northumberland,  on  the  borders  of  Cumberland,  there  is  a 
place  called  Wardrew,  to  the  north-west  of  Thirlwall-castle, 
which  stands  on  that  part  of  the  Picts-Wall,  where  it  crosses 
the  Tippel,  and  is  known  by  the  name  of  Murus  Perforatus  in 
Saxon  Thirlwall,  on  account  of  the  gaps  made  in  the  wall  at  this 
place  for  the  Scots'  passage.  Here,  as  I  wandered  about  this 
wild,  untravelled  country,  in  search  of  Roman  antiquities,  I 
arrived  at  a  sulphur-spring,  which  I  found  to  be  the  strongest 
and  most  excellent  of  the  kind  in  all  the  world.  It  rises  out  of  a 
vast  cliff,  called  Arden-Rock,  over  the  bank  of  the  river  Arde 
or  Irthing,  six  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  comes 
out  of  a  chink  in  the  cliff  by  a  small  spout.  The  discharge  is 
fifty  gallons  in  a  minute  from  a  mixture  of  limestone  and  iron- 
stone ;  and  the  water  is  so  very  foetid,  that  it  is  difficult  to  swal- 
low it.  The  way  to  it  is  not  easy,  for  there  is  no  other  passage 
than  along  a  very  narrow  ledge,  about  nine  inches  broad,  which 
has  been  cut  off  the  rock  over  the  deep  river,  and  if  you  slip,  as 
you  may  easily  do,  having  nothing  to  hold  by,  down  you  go  into 
a  watef  that  looks  very  black  and  shocking,  by  the  shade  of  the 
hanging  precipice,  and  some  aged  trees  which  protect  from  the 
vast  cliff. 

This  dangerous  situation,  and  its  remoteness,  will  prevent  its 
being  ever  much  visited,  admirable  as  the  spaw  is  ;  yet  the  coun- 
try-people thereabout  make  nothing  of  the  ledge,  and  drink 
plentifully  of  the  water,  to  their  sure  relief,  in  many  dangerous 
distempers.  It  is  to  them  a  blessed  spring. 

The  land  all  round  here  was  one  of  the  finest  rural  scenes  I 
have  seen,  and  made  a  pensive  traveller  wish  for  some  small 
public-house  there,  to  pass  a  few  delightful  days.  Its  lawns 
and  groves,  its  waters,  vales,  and  hills,  are  charming,  and  form 
the  sweetest,  softest  region  of  silence  and  ease.  Whichever 
way  I  turned,  the  various  beauties  of  nature  appeared,  and 
nightingales  from  the  thicket  inchantingly  warbled  their  loves. 
The  fountains  were  bordered  with  violets  and  moss,  and  near 
them  were  clumps  of  pine  and  beech,  bound  with  sweet-briar, 
and  the  tendrils  of  woodbine.  It  is  a  delightful  spot :  a  para- 
dise of  blooming  joys,  in  the  fine  season  of  the  year. 

One  inhabitant  only  I  found  in  this  fine  solitude,  who  lived 
on  the  margin  of  the  river,  in  a  small  neat  cottage,  that  was 
almost  hid  with  trees.  This  was  CLAUDIUS  HOBART,  a  man  of 
letters,  and  a  gentleman,  who  had  been  unfortunate  in  the  world 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  327 

and  retired  to  these  elysian  fields,  to  devote  the  remainder  of 
his  time  to  religion,  and  enjoy  the  calm  felicities  of  contempla- 
tive life.  He  was  obliged  by  law  to  resign  his  estate  to  a  claim- 
ant, and  death  had  robbed  him  of  a  matchless  mistress,  of  great 
fortune,  to  whom  he  was  to  have  been  married.  The  men  who 
had  called  themselves  his  friends,  and  as  Timon  says  in  Lucian, 
honoured  him,  worshipped  him,  and  seemed  to  depend  on  his 
nod,  4«.oG  vtv/j-aTos  av-rjp  TT^wot,  no  longer  knew  him  ;  jam  ne  agnoscor 
quidem  ab  illis,  nee  aspici  ne  dignantur  me,  perinde  ut  eversum 
hominis  jam  olim  defuncti  cippum,  ac  temporis  longitudine  col- 
lapsum  pretereunt  quasi  ne  norint  quidem  ;  wbt  avayvwres  :  so 
true,  continued  HOBART,  are  the  beautiful  lines  of  Petronius  ; 

Nomen  amicitiae  si  quatenus  expedit,  haeret, 

Calculus  in  tabula  mobile  ducit  opus. 
Quum  fortuna  manet,  vultum  servatis  amici : 

Cum  cecidit,  turpi  vertitis  ora  fuga. 

And  so  Ovid  says  was  his  case, 

Eandem  cum  Timone  nostro  sortem 

Expertus  naso,  qui  sic  de  seipso  : 
En  ego  non  paucis  quondam  munitus  amicis  : 

Dum  flavit  velis  aura  secunda  meis  : 
Ut  fera  terribili  tumuerunt  aequora  vento, 

In  mediis  lacera  puppe  relinquor  aquis. 

So  HOBART  found  it,  and  as  his  health  was  declining  from  various 
causes,  and  he  had  nothing  in  view  before  him  but  misery  ;  he 
retired  to  Wardrew,  while  he  had  some  money,  built  the  little 
house  I  saw  on  a  piece  of  ground  he  purchased,  and  provided 
such  necessaries  and  comforts  as  he  imagined  might  be  want- 
ing :  he  had  a  few  good  books,  the  Bible,  some  history,  and 
mathematics,  to  make  him  wiser  and  better,  and  abroad  he 
diverted  himself  mostly  in  his  garden,  and  with  fishing  :  for 
fifteen  years  past  he  had  not  been  in  any  town,  nor  in  any  one's 
house,  but  conversed  often  with  several  of  the  country  people, 
who  came  to  drink  the  mineral-water  :  what  he  had  fresh  occa- 
sion for,  one  or  other  of  them  brought  him,  according  to  his 
written  directions,  and  the  money  he  gave  them,  and  once  or 
twice  a  week  he  was  sure  of  seeing  somebody  :  as  the  people 
knew  he  was  not  rich,  and  lived  a  harmless  life,  they  were  far 
from  being  his  enemies,  and  would  do  any  thing  in  their  power 
to  serve  the  hermit,  as  they  called  him  :  but  he  seldom  gave  them 
any  trouble.  His  food  was  biscuit,  honey,  roots,  fish,  and  oil ; 
and  his  drink,  water,  with  a  little  rum  sometimes.  He  was  never 
sick,  nor  melancholy  ;  but  by  a  life  of  temperance  and  action, 
and  a  religion  of  trust  and  resignation,  enjoyed  perpetual  health 
and  peace,  and  run  his  latent  course  in  the  pleasing  expectation 


328  THE  LIFE  OF 


of  a  remove,  when  his  days  were  past,  to  the  bright  mansions 
of  the  blest. 

Such  was  the  account  HOBART  gave  me  of  himself,  which 
made  me  admire  him  much,  as  he  was  but  fifty  then  ;  and  to 
convince  me  his  temper  had  nothing  Timonean  or  unsocial  in  it 
from  his  solitary  life,  he  requested  I  would  dine  with  him.  He 
entertained  me  with  an  excellent  pickled  trout  and  biscuit,  fine 
fruit,  and  a  pot  of  extraordinary  honey  :  with  as  much  cream 
of  tartar  as  lay  on  a  sixpence,  infused  in  warm  water,  he  made 
half  a  pint  of  rum  into  good  punch,  and  he  talked  over  it  like  a 
man  of  sense,  breeding,  and  good  humour.  We  parted  when 
the  bowl  was  out,  and  at  my  going  away,  he  made  me  a  present 
of  the  following  in  manuscript,  and  told  me  I  might  print  it, 
if  I  could  think  it  would  be  of  any  use  to  mankind.  It  was 
called 

THE  RULE  OF  REASON,  WITH  A  FEW  THOUGHTS  ON 
REVELATION. 

The  throne  of  God  rests  upon  reason,  and  his  prerogative  is 
supported  by  it.  It  is  the  sole  rule  of  the  Deity,  the  Mind  which 
presides  in  the  universe  and  therefore  is  venerable,  sacred,  and 
divine.  Every  ray  of  reason  participates  of  the  majesty  of  that 
Being  to  whom  it  belongs,  and  whose  attribute  it  is  ;  and  being 
thereby  awful,  and  invested  with  a  supreme  and  absolute  author- 
ity, it  is  rebellion  to  refuse  subjection  to  right  reason  and  a 
violation  of  the  great  and  fundamental  law  of  heaven  and  earth. 

To  this  best,  and  fittest,  and  noblest  rule,  the  rule  of  truth, 
we  ought  to  submit,  and  in  obedience  to  the  sacred  voice  of 
reason,  resist  the  importunities  of  sense  and  the  usurpations  of 
appetite.  Since  the  will  of  that  Being,  who  is  infinitely  pure 
and  perfect,  rational  and  righteous,  is  obliged  and  governed 
by  his  unerring  understanding  ;  our  wills  should  be  guided  and 
directed  by  our  reason.  In  imitation  of  the  wisest  and  best  of 
Beings,  we  must  perpetually  adhere  to  truth,  and  ever  act  right- 
eously for  righteousness'  sake.'  By  acting  in  conformity  to  moral 
truths,  which  are  really  and  strictly  divine,  we  act  in  conformity 
to  ourselves,  and  it  is  not  possible  to  conceive  any  thing  so  glori- 
ous, or  godlike.  We  are  thereby  taught  the  duties  of  piety, 
our  duties  toward  our  fellows,  and  that  self-culture  which  is 
subservient  to  piety  and  humanity. 

Reason  informs  us  there  is  a  superior  Mind,  endued  with  know- 
ledge and  great  power,  presiding  over  human  affairs  ;  some 
original,  independent  Being,  complete  in  all  possible  perfection, 
of  boundless  power,  wisdom  and  goodness,  the  Contriver,  Crea- 
tor, and  Governor  of  this  world,  and  the  inexhaustible  source 
of  all  good.  A  vast  collection  of  evidence  demonstrates  this. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  329 

Design,  intention,  art,  and  power,  as  great  as  our  imagination 
can  conceive,  everywhere  occur.  As  far  as  we  can  make  ob- 
servations, original  intelligence  and  power  appear  to  reside  in  a 
Spirit  distinct  from  all  divisible,  changeable,  or  moveable  sub- 
stance ;  and  if  we  can  reason  at  all  it  must  be  clear  that  an 
original  omnipotent  Mind  is  a  good  Deity,  and  espouses  the 
cause  of  virtue,  and  of  the  universal  happiness  ;  will  gloriously 
compensate  the  worthy  in  a  future  state,  and  then  make  the 
vicious  and  oppressive  have  cause  to  repent  of  their  contradicting 
his  will.  It  follows  then  most  certainly,  that  with  this  great 
source  of  our  being,  and  of  all  perfection,  every  rational  mind 
ought  to  correspond,  and  with  internal  and  external  worship 
adore  the  divine  power  and  goodness.  His  divine  perfections, 
creation  and  providence,  must  excite  all  possible  esteem,  love, 
and  admiration,  if  we  think  at  all ;  must  beget  trust  and  resig- 
nation ;  and  raise  the  highest  sensations  of  gratitude.  All  our 
happiness  and  excellency  is  from  his  bounty,  and  therefore  not 
unto  us,  but  to  his  name  be  the  praise.  And  can  there  be  a  joy 
on  earth  so  stable  and  transporting  as  that  which  rises  from 
living  with  an  habitual  sense  of  the  Divine  Presence,  a  just  per- 
suasion of  being  approved,  beloved,  and  protected  by  him  who 
is  infinitely  perfect  and  omnipotent  ? 

By  reason  we  likewise  find,  that  the  excesses  of  the  passions 
produce  misery,  and  iniquity  makes  a  man  completely  wretched 
and r despicable  :  but  integrity  and  moral  worth  secure  us  peace 
and  merit,  and  lead  to  true  happiness  and  glory.  Unless  reason 
and  inquiry  are  banished,  vice  and  oppression  must  have  terrible 
struggles  against  the  principles  of  humanity  and  conscience. 
Reflection  must  raise  the  most  torturing  suspicions,  and  all  stable 
satisfaction  must  be  lost  :  but  by  cultivating  the  high  powers 
of  our  reason,  and  acquiring  moral  excellence,  so  far  as  human 
nature  is  able  :  by  justice  and  the  benevolent  affections,  virtue 
and  charity,  we  are  connected  with  and  affixed  to  the  Deity, 
and  with  the  inward  enjoyment  of  all  the  felicities  suitable  to 
our  transitory  condition.  Happy  state  surely  !  There  are  no 
horrors  here  to  haunt  us.  There  is  no  dreadful  thing  to  poison 
all  parts  of  life  and  all  enjoyments. 

Let  us  hearken  then  to  the  original  law  of  reason,  and  follow 
God  and  nature  as  the  sure  guide  to  happiness.  Let  the  offices 
of  piety  and  beneficence  be  the  principal  employment  of  our 
time  ;  and  the  chief  work  of  our  every  day,  to  secure  an  happy 
immortality,  by  equity,  benignity,  and  devotion.  By  continual 
attention  and  internal  discipline,  reason  can  do  great  things, 
and  enable  us  so  to  improve  the  supreme  and  most  godlike  powers 
of  our  constitution,  and  so  discharge  the  duties  imposed  upon  us 
by  our  Creator,  that  when  we  return  into  that  silence  we  were 
in  before  we  existed,  and  our  places  shall  know  us  no  more,  we 


330  THE  LIFE  OF 


may  pass  from  the  unstable  condition  of  terrestrial  affairs  to  that 
eternal  state  in  the  heavens,  where  everlasting  pleasures  and 
enjoyments  are  prepared  for  those  who  have  lived  in  the  delight- 
ful exercise  of  the  powers  of  reason,  and  performed  all  social 
and  kind  offices  to  others,  out  of  a  sense  of  duty  to  God.  Thus 
does  truth  oblige  us.  It  is  the  basis  of  morality,  as  morality  is 
the  basis  of  religion. 

This,  I  think,  is  a  just  account  of  moral  truth  and  rectitude, 
and  shows  that  it  is  essentially  glorious  in  itself,  and  the  sacred 
rule  to  which  all  things  must  bend,  and  all  agents  submit.  But 
then  a  question  may  be  asked,  What  need  have  we  of  revelation, 
since  reason  can  so  fully  instruct  us,  and  its  bonds  alone  are 
sufficient  to  hold  us  ; — and  in  particular,  what  becomes  of  the 
principal  part  of  revelation  called  redemption  ? 

The  system  of  moral  truth  and  revelation,  it  may  be  answered, 
are  united,  and  at  perfect  amity  with  each  other.  Morality 
and  the  gospel  stand  on  the  same  foundation,  and  differ  only  in 
this,  that  revealed  religion,  in  respect  of  the  corrupt  and  de- 
generate state  of  mankind,  has  brought  fresh  light,  and  addi- 
tional assistance,  to  direct,  support,  and  fix  men  in  their  duty. 
We  have  histories  which  relate  an  early  deviation  from  moral 
truth,  and  inform  us  that  this  disease  of  our  rational  nature 
spreads  like  a  contagion.  The  case  became  worse,  and  more 
deplorable,  in  succeeding  ages  ;  and  as  evil  examples  and  pre- 
judices added  new  force  to  the  prevailing  passions,  and  reason 
and  liberty  of  will,  for  want  of  due  exercise,  grew  weaker,  and 
less  able  to  regain  their  lost  dominion,  corruption  was  rendered 
universal.  Then  did  the  true  God,  the  Father  of  the  Universe, 
and  the  most  provident  and  beneficent  of  Beings,  interpose  by 
a  revelation  of  his  will,  and  by  advice  and  authority,  do  all  that 
was  possible,  to  prevent  the  self -destructive  effects  of  the  cul- 
pable ignorance  and  folly  of  his  offspring.  He  gave  the  world 
a  transcript  of  the  law  of  nature  by  an  extraordinary  messenger, 
the  Man  Christ  Jesus,  who  had  power  given  him  to  work  miracles, 
to  rouse  mankind  from  their  fatal  stupidity,  to  set  their  thoughts 
on  work,  and  to  conciliate  their  attention  to  the  heavenly  de- 
claration. In  this  republication  of  the  original  law,  he  gave 
them  doctrines  and  commandments  perfectly  consonant  to  the 
purest  reason,  and  to  them  annexed  sanctions  that  do  really 
bind  and  oblige  men,  as  they  not  only  guard  and  strengthen 
religion,  but  affect  our  natural  sensibility  and  selfishness.  Re- 
ligion appears  to  great  disadvantage,  when  divines  preach  it 
into  a  bond  of  indemnity,  and  a  mere  contract  of  interest ;  but 
exclusive  of  this,  it  must  be  allowed,  that  the  sanctions  of  the 
gospel  have  a  weight,  awfulness,  and  solemnity,  that  prove  to 
a  great  degree  effectual.  Safety  and  advantage  are  reasons  for 
well-doing. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  331 

In  short,  the  evidence  of  the  obligation  of  the  duties  of  natural 
religion  is  as  plain  and  strong  from  reason,  as  any  revelation  can 
make  it ;  but  yet  the  means  of  rendering  these  duties  effectual 
in  practice,  are  not  so  clear  and  powerful  from  mere  reason,  as 
from  revelation.  The  proof  of  obligation  is  equally  strong  in 
reason  and  inspiration,  but  the  obligation  itself  is  rendered 
stronger  by  the  gospel,  by  superadded  means  or  motives.  The 
primary  obligation  of  natural  religion  arises  from  the  nature 
and  reason  of  things,  as  being  objects  of  our  rational  moral  facul- 
ties, agreeably  to  which  we  cannot  but  be  obliged  to  act ;  and 
this  obligation  is  strengthened  by  the  tendency  of  natural  religion 
to  the  final  happiness  of  every  rational  agent  :  but  the  clear 
knowledge,  and  express  promises  which  we  have  in  the  gospel, 
of  the  nature  and  greatness  of  this  final  happiness,  being  added 
to  the  obligation  from,  and  the  tendency  of  reason  or  natural 
religion  to  the  final  happiness  of  human  nature,  the  obligation 
of  it  is  thereby  still  more  strengthened.  In  this  lies  the  benefit 
of  Christianity.  It  is  the  old,  uncorrupt  religion  of  nature  and 
reason,  intirely  free  from  superstition  and  immorality  ;  delivered 
and  taught  in  the  most  rational  and  easy  way,  and  enforced  by 
the  most  gracious  and  powerful  motives. 

But  if  this  be  the  case,  it  may  be  asked,  Where  are  our  holy 
mysteries — and  what  do  you  think  of  our  Redemption  ?  If 
natural  reason  and  conscience  can  do  so  much,  and  to  the  gospel 
we  are  obliged  only  for  a  little  more  light  and  influence,  then 
Trinity  in  Unity,  and  the  Sacrifice  of  the  Cross  are  nothing. 
What  are  your  sentiments  on  these  subjects  ? 

As  to  the  Trinity,  it  is  a  word  invented  by  the  doctors,  and  so 
far  as  I  can  find,  was  never  once  thought  of  by  Jesus  Christ  and 
his  apostles  ;  unless  it  was  to  guard  against  the  spread  of  tritheism 
by  taking  the  greatest  care  to  inculcate  the  supreme  divinity 
of  God  the  Father  :  but  let  it  be  a  trinity,  since  the  church  will 
have  it  so,  and  by  it  I  understand  one  Uncreated,  and  one  Created, 
and  a  certain  divine  virtue  of  quality.  These  I  find  in  the  Bible, 
God,  Jesus  the  Word,  and  a  Divine  Assistance  or  Holy  Wind,  not 
Holy  Ghost,  as  we  have  translated  it  :  called  a  Wind,  because 
God,  from  whom  every  good  and  perfect  gift  cometh,  gave  the 
most  extraordinary  instance  of  it  under  the  emblem  of  a  Wind  ; 
and  holy,  because  it  was  supernatural.  This  is  the  scripture 
doctrine,  in  relation  to  the  Deity,  the  Messias,  and  the  Energy 
of  God  ;  of  which  the  Wind  was  promised  as  a  pledge,  and  was 
given  as  an  emblem,  when  the  day  of  Pentecost  was  come  ;  and 
if  these  three  they  will  call  a  Trinity,  I  shall  not  dispute  about 
the  word.  But  to  say  Jesus  Christ  is  God,  though  the  apostles 
tell  us,  that  God  raised  from  the  dead  the  Man  Jesus  Christ,  whom 
they  killed  ;  that  he  had  exalted  him  at  his  right  hand,  and  had 
made  him  both  Lord  and  Christ ;  and  to  affirm  that  this  Ghost, 


332  THE  LIFE  OF 

as  they  render  the  word  Wind  ;  is  a  person  distinct  and  different 
from  the  person  of  God  the  Father,  and  equally  supreme  ;  this  I 
cannot  agree  to.  If  the  scripture  is  true,  all  this  appears  to  me 
to  be  false.  It  is  a  mere  invention  of  the  Monks. 

As  to  Redemption,  it  may  be  in  perfect  consistence  and  agree- 
ment with  truth  and  rectitude,  if  the  accomplishment  of  it  be 
considered  as  premial,  and  as  resulting  from  a  personal  reward  : 
but  to  regard  the  accomplishment  as  penal,  and  as  resulting  from 
a  vicarious  punishment,  is  a  notion  that  cannot  be  reconciled  to 
the  principle  of  rectitude.  Vicarious  punishment  or  suffering 
appears  an  impossibility  :  but  as  Jesus,  by  adding  the  most  exten- 
sive benevolence  to  perfect  innocence,  and  by  becoming  obedient 
to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross,  was  most  meritorious,  and 
was  entitled  to  the  highest  honour,  and  most  distinguished  reward, 
his  reward  might  be  our  deliverance  from  the  bonds  of  sin  and 
death,  and  the  restoration  of  immortality.  This  reward  was 
worthy  of  the  giver,  and  tended  to  the  advancement  and  spread 
of  virtue.  It  was  likewise  most  acceptable  to  the  receiver.  It 
no  way  interfered  with  right  and  truth.  It  was  in  all  respects 
most  proper  and  suitable.  These  are  my  sentiments  of  Redemp- 
tion. This  appears  to  me  to  be  the  truth  on  the  most  attentive 
and  impartial  examination  I  have  been  capable  of  making. 

To  this,  perhaps,  some  people  may  reply,  that  though  these 
notions  are,  for  the  most  part,  just,  and  in  the  case  of  redemption, 
in  particular,  as  innocence  and  punishment  are  inconsistent  and 
incompatible  ideas,  that  it  was  not  possible  Christ's  oblation  of 
himsel  could  be  more  than  a  figurative  sacrifice,  in  respect  of 
translation  of  guilt,  commutation  of  persons,  and  vicarious  inflic- 
tion ;  though  a  real  sacrifice  in  the  sense  of  intending  by  the 
oblation  to  procure  the  favour  of  God,  and  the  indemnity  of 
sinners  :  yet,  as  the  author  appears  to  be  a  Socinian,  his  account 
is  liable  to  objections.  For,  though  the  Socinians  acknowledge 
the  truth  and  necessity  of  the  revelation  of  the  gospel,  yet,  in  the 
opinion  of  some  great  divines,  they  interpret  it  in  such  a  manner, 
as  no  unprejudiced  person,  who  has  read  the  scriptures,  with  any 
attention,  nor  any  sensible  heathen,  who  should  read  them,  can 
possibly  believe.  They  make  our  Redeemer  a  man,  and  by  this 
doctrine  reflect  the  greatest  dishonour  on  Christianity,  and  its 
Divine  Author. 

This  is  a  hard  charge.  The  Socinians  are  by  these  divines 
described  as  people  who  read  the  scriptures  with  prejudice,  and 
without  attention  ;  men  more  senseless  than  the  Heathens,  and 
as  wicked  too  :  for,  in  the  highest  degree,  they  dishonour  Christ 
Jesus  and  his  religion.  Astonishing  assertion  I  It  puts  me  in 
mind  of  an  imputation  of  the  celebrated  Waterland  in  his  second 
charge  ;  "  What  atheism  chiefly  aims  at,  is,  to  sit  loose  from  pre- 
sent restraints  and  future  reckonings  ;  and  these  two  purposes 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  333 

may  be  competently  served  by  deism,  which  is  a  more  refined 
kind  of  atheism."  Groundless  and  ridiculous  calumny  !  True 
and  proper  deism  is  a  sincere  belief  of  the  existence  of  a  God,  and 
of  an  impartial  distribution  of  rewards  and  punishments  in  another 
world,  and  a  practice  that  naturally  results  from,  and  is  con- 
sonant to  such  belief  ;  and  if  atheism  aims  to  sit  loose  from  re- 
straints and  reckonings,  then  of  consequence,  deism  is  the  grand 
barrier  to  the  purposes  of  atheism.  The  true  Deist  is  so  far  from 
breaking  through  restraints,  that  he  makes  it  the  great  business 
of  his  life  to  discharge  the  obligations  he  is  under,  because  he 
believes  in  God,  and  perceives  the  equity  and  reasonableness  of 
duties,  restraints,  and  future  reckonings.  The  assertion  there- 
fore demonstrates  the  prejudice  of  Dr.  Waterland,  in  relation  to 
the  Deists. 

And  the  case  is  the  same  in  respect  of  the  charge  against  the 
Socinians.  It  is  the  divines  that  are  prejudiced  against  them, 
and  not  the  Socinians  in  studying  the  New  Testament.  It  is  the 
grand  purpose  of  our  lives  to  worship  God,  and  form  our  religious 
notions  according  to  the  instructions  of  divine  wisdom.  We 
examine  the  sacred  writings,  with  the  utmost  desire,  and  most 
ardent  prayer,  that  we  may  be  rightly  informed  in  the  truest 
sense  of  the  holy  authors  of  those  divine  books  :  and  it  appears 
to  our  plain  understandings,  after  the  most  honest  labour,  and 
wishes  to  Heaven  for  a  clear  conception  of  holy  things,  that  the 
Father  is  the  supreme  God,  that  is,  the  first  and  chief  Being,  and 
Agent  ;  the  first  and  chief  Governor  ;  the  Fountain  of  Being, 
Agency,  and  Authority  ;  that  the  Christian  Messiah,  the  Man 
Christ  Jesus,  was  sent  into  the  world  to  bear  witness  to  the  truth, 
and  preach  the  gospel  of  the  kingdom  of  God,  that  kingdom  of  God 
which  is  within  you,  saith  the  Lord,  Luke,  ch.  xvii.  v.  21,  not  a 
kingdom  of  Monks,  a  sacerdotal  empire  of  power,  propositions, 
and  ceremonies.  He  came  to  call  sinners  to  repentance  and 
amendment  of  life,  to  teach  them  the  law  of  love,  and  assure 
mankind  of  grace  and  mercy  and  everlasting  glory,  if  they  kept 
the  commandments,  and  were  obedient  to  the  laws  of  Heaven  ; 
laws  of  righteousness,  peace,  giving  no  offence,  and  unanimity 
in  the  worship  of  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  : 
but  that,  if  they  did  not  repent,  and  cease  to  be  hurtful  and  in- 
jurious ;  if  they  did  not  open  their  eyes  and  turn  from  darkness 
to  light,  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  and  put  on  such  an 
agreeable  and  useful  temper  and  behaviour,  as  would  render 
them  a  blessing  in  the  creation,  they  would  be  numbered  among 
the  cursed,  and  perish  everlastingly,  for  want  of  real  goodness 
and  a  general  sincerity  of  heart.  This  the  Socinians  think  is 
what  Christ  proposed  and  recommended,  as  the  only  and  the 
sure  way  to  God's  favour,  through  the  worthiness  of  the  Lamb 
that  was  slain.  We  say  this  is  pure  religion.  It  is  true,  original 


331  THE  LIFE  OF 


Christianity,  and  if  the  glorious  design  of  our  Lord  is  answered 
by  his  miracles  and  preaching,  by  his  death,  his  resurrection,  his 
ascension,  and  by  the  grace  of  the  holy,  blessed,  and  sanctifying 
Spirit,  it  could  reflect  no  dishonour  on  Christianity,  and  its  divine 
author,  if  our  Redeemer  was  a  mere  man.  If  by  the  assistance 
of  God  Almighty,  a  mere  man  performed  the  whole  work  of  our 
redemption,  all  we  had  to  do  was  to  be  thankful  for  the  mighty 
blessing.  The  love  of  God  in  this  way  had  been  equally  inestim- 
able. The  worth  of  Jesus  would  be  still  invaluable. 

But  it  is  not  the  opinion  of  the  Socinians  that  Christ  was  a  mere 
man.  It  is  plain  from  his  assertion,  that  the  Rev.  Dr.  Heathcote, 
in  his  Remarks  on  Free  and  Candid  Disquisitions,  knows  nothing 
of  them  :  the  account  they  give  of  Jesus  Christ  is  very  different. 
They  say,  he  was  a  most  glorious  agent  united  to  a  human  body, 
and  so  far  from  being  a  mere  man,  that  he  was  superior  to  angels. 
He  was  the  next  in  character  to  the  necessarily  existing  Being. 
He  is  the  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image 
of  his  person  :  he  has  an  excellency  transcendent,  and  to  the  life 
represents  what  is  infinitely  great  and  perfect. 

If  they  do  not  allow  that  he  made  the  worlds,  or  had  an  eternal 
generation  ;  if  they  say,  he  had  no  existence  till  he  was  formed  by 
the  power  of  God  in  the  womb,  and  assert  this  eminency  is  proper 
to  the  Man  Christ  Jesus  ;  yet  they  are  far  from  affirming  he  was 
therefore  a  mere  man  :  no  ;  they  believe  he  was  decreed  to  be 
as  great  and  glorious  as  possible,  and  that  God  made  the  world 
for  him  ;  that  he  was  made  the  image  of  the  invisible  person  of 
the  Father  ;  an  image  the  most  express  and  exact ;  as  great  as 
God  himself  could  make  it ;  and  of  consequence,  so  transcendent 
in  all  perfections,  that  what  he  says  and  does  is  the  same  thing 
as  if  God  had  spoken  and  acted.  This  is  not  making  him  a  mere 
man.  No  :  they  say  he  is  the  first  of  all,  and  the  head  of  all  crea- 
tures, whom  the  infinite  love  of  God  produced,  to  promote  great- 
ness, glory,  and  happiness  among  the  creatures,  by  the  super- 
lative greatness  and  glory  of  Jesus  ;  and  that  angels,  and  the 
spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  might  have  the  pleasure  of  behold- 
ing and  enjoying  the  presence  of  this  most  glorious  Image,  that 
is,  of  seeing  their  invisible  Creator  in  his  Image,  Jesus  Christ. 
He  is  not  a  mere  man  ;  but  the  brightness  of  the  glory  of  God,  the 
express  Image  of  his  person,  and  raised  so  much  higher  than  the 
angels,  as  he  has  inherited  from  God  a  more  excellent  name  than 
they,  to  wit,  the  name  of  Son,  and  is  the  appointed  heir  of  all 
things. 

So  that  this  Socinianism  reflects  no  dishonour  on  Christianity 
and  its  Divine  Author.  It  conduces  as  much  to  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  benefit  of  man,  as  any  Christianity  can  do.  There  is 
something  vastly  beautiful  and  satisfactory  in  the  notion  of 
Christ's  being  the  most  glorious  Image  of  the  invisible  Father, 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  335 

whenever  his  existence  began.  The  many  transcendent  excel- 
lencies of  the  Messias,  in  whom  all  fulness  dwells,  are  exercised 
upon  men  to  their  happiness,  and  to  his  glory  ;  and  we  learn  from 
thence,  that  greatness  and  glory  are  the  result  of  the  exercise  of 
virtue  to  the  relief  and  happiness  of  others.  The  Redeemer  of 
the  world  is,  in  this  account,  the  next  in  dignity  and  power  to 
the  Great  God  ;  and  the  perfections  of  the  Father  do  most  emi- 
nently shine  forth  in  him.  We  are  hereby  made  meet  to  be 
partakers  of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light,  and  delivered 
from  the  power  of  darkness.  We  give  thanks  unto  the  Father, 
who  hath  translated  us  into  the  kingdom  of  the  Son  of  his  love. 

It  is  certain  then  that  the  divines  have  misrepresented  the 
people,  who  are  injuriously  called  Socinians,  as  the  religion  they 
profess  is  Scripture-Christianity.  I  say  injuriously,  because,  in 
the  first  place,  the  word  Socinian  is  intended  as  a  term  of  great 
reproach  to  Christians,  who  deserve  better  usage  for  the  goodness 
of  their  manners,  and  the  purity  of  their  faith  :  and  in  the  next 
place,  that  Socinus  was  so  far  from  being  the  author  of  our  reli- 
gion, that  he  was  not  even  the  first  restorer  of  it.  He  did  not  go 
to  Poland  to  teach  the  people  there  his  religious  notions,  but 
because  there  was  a  Unitarian  congregation  there,  with  whom  he 
might  join  in  the  worship  of  the  Father,  through  Jesus  the  Media- 
tor, as  his  conscience  would  not  suffer  him  to  assemble  with 
those  who  worship  a  Being  compounded  of  three  divine  persons. 

But  it  is  time  to  have  done,  and  I  shall  conclude  in  the  words 
of  a  good  author  in  old  French.  *  The  extract  must  be  a  curious 
thing  to  the  reader,  as  the  valuable  book  I  take  it  from  is  not  to 
be  bought. 

"  Nostre  confession  de  foy  ate  depuis  la  premiere  predication 
de  1'evangile  puisque  nous  luy  donnons  la  sainte  ecriture  pour 
fondement,  mais  il  arrive  de  nous  ce  qu'il  arrive  des  tous  ceux 
qui  se  sont  detaches  de  1'eglise  Romaine  aux  quels  le  papistes 
donnent  malgre  eux  pour  autheurs  de  leur  religion  Luther,  Calvin, 
et  autres  docteures  qui  n'ont  ete  que  les  restorateurs,  des  dogmes 
et  de  verites  qui  s'etoyent  presque  perdues  sous  le  gouvernement 
tyrannique  de  1'eglise  Romaine  pendant  lequel  1'ecriture  sainte 
etoit  devenue  un  livre  inconnu  a  la  pluspart  de  Chretiens  la  lecture 
en  ayant  ete  defendue  communement.  Mais  par  un  decret  de  la 
providence  de  Diue  le  periode  de  la  revolution  etant  venu  chacun 
a  commence  a  deterrer  la  verite  la  mieux  qu'il  a  pu,  et  comme 
dans  chaque  revolution  il  y  a  des  chefs  et  des  gens  illustres,  ainsi 
dans  le  retablissement  des  dogmes  etouffes  si  longtems  par  le 
papisme  Luther,  Calvin,  Arminius,  et  Socin,  ont  ete  des  hommes 
illustres  et  dont  on  a  donne  le  nom  aux  religions.  Vous  scaurez 
done  s'il  vous  plaist  que  Socin  bien  loin  d' avoir  ete  autheur  de 
nostre  religion  n'en  a  pas  ete  meme  la  premier  restaurateur  :  car 

*  Or  rath«r  in  bad  French,  as  the  writer  was  no  Frenchman. 


336  THE  LIFE  OF 


il  n'etoit  verm  en  Pologne  que  parce  qu'il  avoit  appris  qu'il  s'y 
etoit  deja  form6e  une  assemblee  de  gens  qui  avoyent  des  opinions 
semblables  aux  siennes  :  Je  vous  diray  de  plus,  que  la  seule  chose 
que  le  fait  un  heros  dans  nostre  religion  c'est  qu'il  en  a  ecrit  des 
livres,  mais  il  ny  a  presque  personne  qui  les  Use,  car  comme  Socin 
etoit  un  bon  jurisconsulte  il  est  extremement  long  et  ennuyeux  ; 
et  outre  que  nous  ne  voulous  point  avoir  d'autre  livre  de  religion 
que  le  nouveau  Testament  et  point  d'autres  docteurs  que  les 
apostres.  C'est  pourquoy,  c'est  bien  malgre  nous  qu'on  nous 
appelle  Sociniens  ou  Arriens  :  ce  sont  des  noms  dont  la  malignite 
de  nos  ennemys  nous  couvre  pour  nous  rendre  odieux.  Nous 
appellons  entre  nous  du  simple  nom  de  Chretiens.  Mais  puisque 
dans  cette  desunion  de  la  chretiente,  on  nous  dit  qu'il  ne  suffit 
pas  de  porter  ce  nom  universel,  mais  qu'il  encore  necessairement 
se  distinguer  par  quelque  appellation  particuliere,  nous  consentons 
done  de  porter  le  nom  de  Chretiens  unitaires  pour  nous  distinguer 
de  Chretiens  trinitaires.  Ce  nom  de  Chretiens  unitaires  nous 
convient  fort  bien  comme  a  ceux  qui  ne  voulant  en  aucune  f  a$on 
encherye  sur  la  doctrine  de  Jesus  Christ,  n'y  y  subtiliser  plus  qu'il 
ne  faut,  attachent  leur  croyance  et  leur  confession  positivement 
a  cette  instruction  de  Jesus  Christ  qui  se  trouve  dans  le  17  chap, 
de  1'evangile  de  St.  Jean,  quand  il  dit  Mon  pere  1'heure  est  venue, 
glorifiez  vostre  fils  afin  que  vostre  fils  vous  glorifie,  comme  vous 
luy  avez  donne  puissance  sur  tous  les  hommes  a  fin  qu'il  donne 
la  vie  eternelle  a  tous  ceux  que  vous  luy  avez  donne  ;  or  la  vie 
eternelle  consiste  a  vous  connoistre,  vous  qui  estes  le  seul  Dieu 
veritable,  et  Jesus  Christ  que  vous  avez  envoye.  La  meme  leson 
nous  donne  1'apostre  St.  Paul  dans  le  8  chap,  aux  Cor.  disant, 
qu'il  n'y  a  pour  nous  qu'un  seul  Dieu  qui  est  la  pere  duquel  sont 
toutes  choses  et  nous  pour  luy,  et  il  n'y  a  qu'un  seul  seigneur 
qui  est  Jesus  Christ,  par  lequel  sont  toutes  choses  et  nous  par  luy* 
C'est  done  a  cause  de  cette  confession  que  nous  nous  appellons 
Chretiens  unitaires  par  ce  que  nous  croyons  qu'il  n'y  a  qu'un 
seul  Dieu,  pere  et  Dieu  de  nostre  seigneur  Jesus  Christ,  celuy 
que  Jesus  Christ  nous  a  appris  d'adorer,  et  lequel  il  a  aussy  adore 
luy  meme,  1'appellent  non  seulment  nostre  Dieu  mais  son  Dieu 
aussy  selon  qu'il  a  dit,  je  m'en  vay  a  mon  pere  et  vostre  pere,  a 
mon  Dieu  et  a  vostre  Dieu. 

"  Ainsy  vous  voyez  que  nous  nous  tenons  aux  verites  divines. 
Nous  avons  la  religieuse  veneration  pour  la  sainte  ecriture.  Avec 
tout  cela  nous  sommes  serviteurs  tres  humble  des  messieurs  les 
trinitaires, — penes  quos  mundanae  fabulae  actio  est,  et  il  ne  tient 
pas  a  nous  que  nous  ne  courrions  de  tout  nostre  coeur  a  leurs 
autels,  s'ils  vouloyent  nous  faire  la  grace  de  souffrir  nostre  sim- 
plicite  en  Jesus  Christ,  et  de  ne  pas  vouloir  nous  obliger  a  la  con- 
fession de  supplemens  a  la  sainte  ecriture."* 

*  La  Veritt  et  la  Religion  en  Visite,  Alamagne,  1695. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  337 

The  great  and  excellent  Faustus  Socinus  was  born  at  Sienna, 
in  the  year  1539,  and  died  at  Luclavie,  the  third  of  March,  1604, 
aged  sixty-five.  His  book  in  defence  of  the  authority  of  the 
sacred  scriptures  is  a  matchless  performance  ;  and  if  he  had  never 
written  any  thing  else,  is  alone  sufficient  to  render  his  memory 
glorious,  and  precious  to  all  true  Christians.  Get  this  book,  if 
you  can.  It  is  the  finest  defence  of  your  Bible  that  was  ever 
published.  Steinfurti,  1611.  edit.  Vorst.  And  yet,  such  is  the 
malignity  of  orthodoxy,  that  a  late  great  prelate,  Dr.  Smalbroke, 
Bishop  of  Litchfield  and  Coventry,  who  died  in  1749  ;  in  his 
Second  Charge  to  the  Clergy  of  St.  David's,  p.  34  ;  could  not  help 
blackening  the  author  when  he  mentioned  the  work  :  his  words 
are  these,  "  And  if  Grotius  was  more  especially  assisted  by  the 
valuable  performance  of  a  writer,  otherwise  justly  of  ill  fame,  I 
mean,  Faustus  Socinus'  little  book  De  Auctoritate  S.  Scriptures, 
this  assistance,"  &c.  Here  the  admirable  Socinus,  a  man  of  as 
much  piety  and  as  good  morals,  as  hath  lived  since  the  apostles' 
time,  who  truly  and  godly  served  the  Almighty  and  everlasting 
God,  through  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  is  painted  by 
this  eminent  hand  "  a  man  of  ill  fame  ;  "  and  for  no  other  reason 
but  because  his  heavenly  religion  made  him  oppose  the  orthodox 
heresy  of  three  Gods,  as  taught  in  the  creed  of  Athanasius  ;  and 
piously  labour,  by  the  purity  of  his  doctrine  and  example,  to 
keep  the  world  from  corruption. 

Let  us  then  be  careful  to  confess  the  holy  Unitarian  faith.  Let 
us  take  the  advice  of  Socinus,  and  be  original  Christians.  Let 
there  not  be  in  our  religion  a  God  compounded  of  three  supreme 
spirits,  equal  in  power  and  all  possible  perfections.  Let  us  wor- 
ship the  Invisible  Father,  the  first  and  chief  Almighty  Being, 
who  is  one  supreme  universal  Spirit,  of  peerless  Majesty  ;  and, 
as  the  inspired  apostles  direct,  let  us  worship  him  through  his 
most  glorious  Image,  the  Man  Christ  Jesus  ;  our  Redeemer  and 
Mediator,  our  King  and  our  Judge. 

N.B.  Though  the  reverend  Dr.  Heathcote  hath  been  very 
unfriendly  in  his  account  of  the  Christians  he  calls  Socinians,  in 
his  observations  before  mentioned,  yet  you  are  not  from  thence 
to  conclude  that  he  belongs  to  the  Orthodox  Party.  He  is  far 
from  it,  and  therefore  I  recommend  to  your  perusal  not  only  his 
Cursory  Animadversions  upon  Free  and  Candid  Disquisitions,  and 
his  finer  Boyle- Lecture  Sermons  on  the  Being  of  God,  but  also  his 
Cursory  Animadversions  upon  the  Controversy,  concerning  the 
Miraculous  Powers,  and  his  Remarks  on  Chapman's  Credibility 
of  the  Fathers'  Miracles.  They  are  three  excellent  pamphlets. 
The  first  is  against  the  scholastic  Trinity.  And  the  others  on 
the  side  of  Dr.  Middleton,  against  the  miracles  of  the  Fathers. 

Note,  Reader,  Dr.  Heathcote' s  two  pamphlets  on  the  side  of 
Dr.  Middleton,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Toll's  admirable  pieces  in  vindi- 


338  THE  LIFE  OF 


cation  of  the  Doctor  against  the  miracles  of  the  Fathers,  vill  give 
you  a  just  and  full  idea  of  the  late  controversy.  Mr.  TolJ  s  pieces 
are  called,  A  Defence  of  Dr.  Middletoris  Free  Enquiry  ;  Remarks 
upon  Mr.  Church's  Vindication  ;  and  his  Sermon  and  Appendix 
against  Dr.  Church's  Appeal. 

If  you  would  see  all  that  can  be  said  in  relation  to  this  matter, 
get  likewise  Dr.  Syke's  Two  Previous  Questions  :  ard  The  Two 
Previous  Questions  impartially  Considered ;  by  the  same  author. 
Remarks  on  two  Pamphlets  against  Dr.  Middleton's  Introduc- 
tory Discourse  ;  Two  Letters  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jackson,  in  Answer 
to  his  Remarks  on  Middleton's  Free  Inquiry  ;  and  A  View  of  the 
Controversy,  concerning  the  Miraculous  Powers,  supposed  to  have 
subsisted  in  the  Christian  Church  through  several  successive  Cen- 
turies. These  pamphlets  will  bind  into  two  large  octavo  volumes, 
and  make  a  valuable  collection  of  critical  religious  learning. 

Note,  Reader,  of  that  admirable  work,  called  Bibliotheca  Fra- 
trum  Polonorum,  by  Socinus,  Crellius,  Sclichtingius,  and  Wolzo- 
genius,  six  volumes,  printed  in  Irenopoli,  1656,  folio.  The  first 
and  second  volumes  are  the  writings  of  Socinus  ;  the  third  and 
fourth  by  Crellius  ;  the  fifth  by  Sclichtingius  ;  and  the  sixth  by 
Wolzogenius  :  they  are  all  well  worth  your  reading,  as  they  con- 
tain the  most  valuable  and  excellent  learning  ;  and  especially 
Socinus  and  Crellius.  In  another  place,  where  you  will  find  me 
alone  in  a  solitude  ;  I  shall  give  some  curious  extracts  from  the 
works  of  these  great,  injured  men,  and  a  summary  of  their  lives. 

But  to  return  to  my  narrative  ;  from  Knaresborough,  I  went  to 
Harrogate  again,  and  there  found  the  following  letter,  of  an  old 
date,  left  for  me, 

"  SIR, 

"  As  you  told  me,  you  intended  to  go  to  London  soon,  and 
business  obliges  me  to  ride  up  to  the  capital  a  few  weeks  hence,  I 
should  take  it  as  a  great  favour,  if  you  would  make  Westmore- 
land your  way,  and  through  Lancashire  to  the  Chester  road,  that 
I  may  have  your  protection  and  guidance  in  this  long  journey. 
"I  am,  Sir, 

"Your  humble  servant, 

"  MARIA  SPENCE. 
"  Cleator,  six  miles  to  the  south- 
west of  Wharton-Hall." 

This  letter  surprised  me.  Yes,  dear  creature,  I  said,  I  will 
make  Westmoreland  my  way  to  London.  At  four  in  the  morn- 
ing I  mounted  my  horse,  and  rode  to  Cleator.  I  arrived  there 
at  six  in  the  evening,  and  had  travelled  that  day  seventy-five 
miles  ;  to  wit,  from  Harrogate  to  Boroughbridge,  eight ;  from 
thence  to  Catarric,  twenty-two  ;  to  Gretabridge,  fifteen  ;  to  Bows , 
six  ;  to  Brugh  in  Westmoreland,  twelve  ;  to  Kirkby  Steven,  near 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  339 

Wharton-Hall,  six  ;  to  Cleator,  six  ;  in  all,  seventy-five  miles.  I 
dined  at  Catarric  on  a  hot  pigeon-pye  just  drawn,  and  ale  of  one 
ear,  that  is,  admirable,  as  Rabelais  means  by  the  phrase,  "  We 
had  wine  of  one  ear,"  alluding  to  the  one  shake  of  the  head  to  the 
right  shoulder,  when  a  thing  is  excellent ;  and  I  gave  the  horses 
another  feed  of  corn  at  Bows,  at  the  George,  kept  by  RAILTON, 
the  Quaker  ;  an  excellent  inn,  and  the  master  of  it  an  instructive 
and  entertaining  orator.  *  I  mention  these  things  for  your  benefit, 
reader,  that  you  may  know  where  to  stop  to  advantage,  if  you 
should  ever  ride  over  the  same  ground  I  went  that  day. 

*  While  I  waited  at  the  inn,  till  the  horses  had  eaten  their  corn,  the  landlord  brought  me 
a  paper  dropt,  by  a  lady  he  knew  not,  some  days  before  at  his  house.  He  added,  it  was  a 
curiosity,  and  worth  my  serious  consideration. 

A   MORNING   AND   EVENING   PRAYER. 

"  Almighty  and  ever-living  God,  have  mercy  on  me.  Forgive  me  all  my  sins,  and  make 
my  heart  one,  to  fear  thy  glorious  fearful  name,  Jehovah.  Guide  me  with  thy  counsel,  I 
beseech  thee,  and  be  the  strength  of  my  life  and  my  portion  for  ever. 

"  O  Lord  Jehovah,  defend  me  from  the  power  and  malice,  the  assaults  and  attempts,  of 
all  my  adversaries,  and  keep  me  in  health  and  safety,  in  peace  and  innocence.     These  things 
I  ask  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  thy  Son,  our  Lord  ;  and  in  his  words  I  call  upon  thee  as   , 
Our  Father,  who  art  in  heaven,"  &c. 

This  prayer  pleased  me  very  much.  In  the  most  beautiful  manner,  as  well  as  in  a  few 
words  it  expresses  all  we  need  ask  from  Heaven ;  and  if  Miss  Dudgeon  of  Richmondshire 
was  the  composer  of  it,  as  I  have  been  assured  since,  upon  enquiry,  I  here  place  it  to  her 
honour,  as  a  monument  of  her  piety  and  sense  ;  and  in  hopes  the  illustrious  of  her  sex  will 
use  so  short  and  excellent  a  form  of  devotion  in  their  closets  morning  and  night. 

There  is  an  expression  in  this  prayer,  which  for  some  time  I  could  not  well  comprehend 
the  meaning  of  it ;  that  is,  Make  my  heart  one  :  but  on  considering  it,  I  found  it  supported 
by  the  greatest  authorities. 

Among  the  sayings  of  Pythagoras,  one  is,  be  simply  thyself.  Reduce  thy  conduct  to  one 
single  aim,  by  bringing  every  passion  into  subjection,  and  acquiring  that  general  habit  of  self- 
denial,  which  comprehends  temperance,  moderation,  patience,  government,  and  is  the  main 
principle  of  wisdom.  Be  simply  thyself,  and  so  curb  desire,  and  restrain  the  inclinations 
and  controul  the  affections,  that  you  may  be  always  able  to  move  the  passions  as  reason 
shall  direct.  Let  not  every  foremost  fancy,  or  every  forward  appearance,  have  the  least 
mastery  over  you ;  but  view  them  on  every  side  by  the  clear  light  of  reason,  and  be  no  further 
influenced  by  the  imaginations  of  pleasure,  and  apprehensions  of  evil,  than  as  the  obvious 
relations  and  nature  of  things  allow.  Let  the  result  of  a  perception  which  every  rational 
mind  may  have  of  the  essential  difference  between  good  and  evil,  be  the  cause  or  ground 
of  obligation.  This  will  add  greatly  to  quiet,  and  be  productive  of  much  real  felicity.  It 
willjrender  every  present  condition  supportable,  brighten  every  prospect,  and  always  incline 
us  more  to  hope  than  to  fear.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  Pythagoras. 

I  likewise  find  that  David  expresses  the  same  thought  in  the  86th  Psalm,  ver.  n,  which  is 
rendered  in  the  Bible  translation,  "  Unite  my  heart  to  fear  thy  name ;  "  in  the  Common- 
Prayer  Book,  "  O  knit  my  heart  unto  thee,  that  I  may  fear  thy  name :  "  but  the  Hebrew  is, 
"  Make  my  heart  one,"  to  fear  thy  name ;  meaning,  Let  the  fear  of  thee  be  the  one  ruling 
disposition  of  my  soul,  in  opposition  to  the  double-minded  man,  which  the  Hebrew  elegantly 
expresses  by  a  "  heart  and  a  heart ;  "  one  that  draws  to  the  riches,  pleasures,  and  honours 
of  this  world  ;  and  another  to  the  practice  of  all  virtue. 

As  to  the  other  part  of  the  prayer,  which  has  the  words — glorious — fearful — Jehovah  ; 
whereas  in  the  86th  Psalm  it  is  only  said,  "  To  fear  thy  name ;  "  the  author  certainly  took 
them  from  Deuteronomy,  ch.  xxviii.  ver.  58.  The  design  of  the  dreadful  threatenings  in  this 
chapter  set  before  the  people,  is  there  thus  expressed,  "  That  thou  mayest  fear  this  glorious 
and  fearful  name,  Jehovah  thy  God  ;  "  or  as  in  our  translation,  "  the  Lord  thy  God  " — And 
therefore  I  think  these  words  are  very  finely  used  in  this  prayer. 

"  It  is  amazing  to  me,"  says  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peters,  rector  of  St.  Mabyn,  "  that  throughout 
the  Bible,  the  translators  have  every  where  changed  the  word  Jehovah  for  the  word  Lord, 
when  God  himself  gave  the  word  Jehovah  as  his  name  to  be  uttered ;  and  as  in  this  word 
the  whole  mystery  of  the  Jewish  and  Christian  dispensation  seem  to  have  been  wrapped  up. 

"  Say  to  the  people,  Ami  Jehovah.  I  am  Jehovah.  Ye  shall  know  that  I  Jehovah  am 
your  God,  which  bringeth  you  out  from  under  the  burdens  of  the  Egyptians."  Exod.  ch.  vi. 
vv.  6,  7.  Deut.  ch.  vi.  ver.  4.  "  Hear,  O  Israel,  Jehovah  our  God  is  one  Jehovah." 


340  THE  LIFE  OF 


When  I  came  to  Miss  SPENCER'S  door,  I  sent  in  my  name  by 
a  servant,  and  immediately  MARIA  came  out  herself  to  welcome 
me  to  Cleator.  She  told  me  she  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  extremely 
obliged  to  me,  for  riding  so  many  miles  out  of  my  way,  to  travel 

Then  as  to  this  word's  comprehending  the  two  dispensations,  a  good  writer  observes  that 
though  God  was  known  to  his  true  worshippers  by  many  other  names,  as  God  Almighty, 
the  High  God,  the  Everlasting  God,  &c.  yet  Jehovah  was  his  one  peculiar  name;  a  name 
which  he  had  appointed  to  himself,  in  preference  to  all  others,  and  by  which  he  declared 
by  Moses  he  would  be  distinguished  for  the  time  to  come. 

And  as  of  all  the  names  of  God,  this  seems  to  be  the  most  expressive  of  his  essence,  as  it 
can  only  be  derived  from  the  root  which  signifies  to  be,  and  denotes  the  one  eternal  self-existent 

lust  depend ; — 
'  "  and  by  such 
is  not  only  self- 
existent,  and  the  Creator  of  the  world,  but  Him  in  whom  all  divine  prophecies  and  predictions 
centre ;  it  follows,  in  my  opinion,  that  we  should  utter  this  awful  name  in  pur  addresses 
to  God,  and  not,  like  the  Jews,  through  a  superstition  omit  it,  and  use  another  instead  of  it." 
This  passage  is  to  be  found  in  an  excellent  Preface  to  the  octavo  edition  of  his  admirable 
Dissertation  on  the  Book  of  Job,  in  reply  to  that  part  of  the  Divine  Legation  of  Moses  demon- 
strated, in  which  the  author,  my  Lord  of  Gloucester,  sets  himself  to  prove,  that  this  book 
is  a  work  of  imagination,  or  dramatic  composition,  no  older  than  Ezra  the  priest,  whom  he 
supposes  to  be  the  writer  of  it,  in  the  year  before  Christ  467,  or  the  year  455,  in  the  twentieth 
year  of  the  reign  of  Artaxerxes,  king  of  Persia,  when  Daniel's  seventy  weeks  begin ;  that  is, 
the  period  of  490  years,  that  were  to  be  fulfilled  before  the  passion  of  our  Saviour.  And 
further,  according  to  the  author  of  the  Legation,  that  this  "allegorical  drama  or  poem,"  was 
written  to  quiet  the  minds  of  the  J  ewish  people  under  the  difficulties  of  their  captivity,  and  to 
assure  them,  as  represented  by  the  person  of  Job,  of  those  great  temporal  blessings  which 
three  prophets  had  predicted. 

Now  in  the  Preface  to  the  book  aforementioned,  in  answer  to  all  this  and  fully  and  beauti- 
fully answered  it  is,  you  will  find  the  passage  relating  to  the  word  Jehovah,  and  more  than  I 
have  quoted  from  it. 

As  to  Pythagoras  the  Samian,  mentioned  in  this  note,  on  account  of  his  saying,  "  Be 
simply  thyself ;  "  he  was  famous  in  the  6oth  olympiad,  as  Jamblicus  informs  us ;  that  is, 
his  Elikia,  or  Reign  of  Fame,  began  in  the  first  year  of  this  olympiad,  which  was  the  year 
before  Christ  540 ;  for  60  x  4  gives  240 — 777  leaves  537  +  3,  the  plus  years  of  the  olympiad  ; 
i.e.  2,  3,  4=540.  And  he  died  in  the  4th  year  of  the  7oth  olmypiad,  that  is,  the  year  before 
Christ  497  :  for  70  x  4=280 — 777  remains  497  :  there  are  no  plus  years  to  be  added  here,  as 
it  happened  in  the  4th  or  last  year  of  the  olympiad.  This  philosopher  was  contemporary 
with,  and  a  near  friend  to,  the  renowned  Phalaris,  who  was  murdered  in  the  year  before  Christ 
556,  when  the  Belshazzar  of  Daniel  ^ascended  the  throne  of  Babylon.  And  as  Pythagoras 
lived  to  the  age  of  90,  according  to  Diogenes,  he  must  have  been  born  in  the  beginning  of  the 
reign  of  Nebuchadnezzar :  the  year  this  conqueror  took  Jerusalem,  and  its  king  Zedekiah, 
which  was  Olymp.  47.  3.  and  of  consequence  before  Christ  590  :  for  47  x  4  =  188 — 777,  remain, 
589+1=590.  This  was  54  years  before  Thespis  invented  tragedy,*  and  n  years  before 
the  birth  of  ^Eschylus,  the  reformer  of  tragedy.  Cyrus  was  then  in  the  tenth  year  of  his  age. 

It  is  likewise  evident  from  hence,  that  Pythagoras  must  have  lived  through  the  reigns 
of  Cyrus,  Cambyses,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  reign  of  Darius  Histaspes,  who  slew  Smerdis 
the  Magi,  and  is  called  in  scripture  Ahasuerus,  the  king  of  Persia,  who  married  Esther,  and 
ordered  Haman  the  Amalekite  to  be  hanged  on  the  gallows  he  had  erected  for  Mordecai  the 
Jew,  in  the  year  before  Christ  510. 

Note,  David  was  before  Pythagoras  519  years. 

Reader,  As  to  the  word  Elikia,  which  I  have  used  to  express  the  reign  or  time  of  flourishing 
of  Pythagoras,  I  have  an  observation  or  two  to  make  in  relation  to  it,  which  I  think  worth 
your  attending  to. 

Clemens  Alexandrinus  says,  Stromata,  p.  40,  'Arrb  Mov<reos  crrl  'ryv  2o\o/u.SfTo?  eXiKiav 
«TTJ  ra  iravra.  exaK6aia  &*Kai  •  tnat  is,  The  years  from  Moses  to  Solomon's  Elikia  are  610  ;  to 

wit,  Moses's  life,' 120 

From  his  death  to  David's  accession 45° 

David's  reign      ------        .....      40 

610 

From  this  passage  it  is  plain,  that  the  Elikia  of  Solomon  is  not  meant  of  his  nativity,  but 
of  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  when  he  was  33  years  of  age. 

It  is  then  very  surprising  that  Dodwell  should  insist  upon  it,  that  Elikia  always  signifies 
nativity.  It  is  the  more  wonderful,  as  Dodwell  quotes  this  passage  from  Clement ;  and  as 
i  t  is  impossible  to  make  out  610,  without  coming  to  the  33rd  of  Solomon,  as  I  have  reckoned  it. 

*  Olymp.  61.  i. ^Selden' ^Comment  on  the  Arundel  Marble. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  341 

up  with  her  to  London  ;  but  as  she  had  never  been  farther  from 
home  than  Harrogate,  and  was  afraid  of  going  such  a  journey  by 
herself,  she  had  written  to  me,  in  hopes  curiosity  and  my  great 
complaisance  to  the  ladies,  might  induce  me  to  take  Cleator  in 
my  way  to  town,  though  so  much  about ;  but  as  so  many  weeks 
had  passed  since  she  came  away  from  the  Wells,  and  she  heard 
nothing  of  me,  she  had  laid  aside  all  expectation  of  my  coming, 
though  this  made  the  visit  the  more  pleasing. 

In  answer  to  this,  I  replied,  that  if  I  had  got  her  letter  sooner, 
I  would  have  been  with  her  long  before  :  but  that  was  not  pos- 
sible, as  I  had  been  at  a  little  lodge  and  farm  of  mine  in  the 
northern  extremity  of  Westmoreland,  to  settle  things  there,  and 
returned  to  Harrogate  but  yesterday,  when  I  had  the  honour  of 
receiving  your  letter,  and  upon  reading  it,  set  out  at  daybreak 
this  morning  to  kiss  your  hand,  and  execute  any  commands. 

Here  an  excellent  hot  supper  was  brought  in,  and  after  it, 
Miss  SPENCE  said,  she  was  surprised  to  hear  I  was  an  inhabitant 
of  Westmoreland,  as  she  had  never  heard  of  me  in  the  north, 
nor  seen  me  at  Harrogate  before  the  other  day. 

I  told  her  I  was  a  stranger  in  the  country,  and  by  a  wonderful 
accident,  as  I  travelled  a  few  years  ago  out  of  curiosity,  and  in 
search  of  a  friend,  up  Stanemore-hills,  I  became  possessed  of  a 
lodge  I  had  on  the  northern  edge  of  Westmoreland,  where  I  lived 

Nay,  in  another  place  of  the  Stromata,  Clement  says,  Isaiah,  Hosea,  and  Micah  lived  after 
the  Elikia  of  Lycurgus  ;  where  he  can  only  mean  the  time  when  that  lawgiver  flourished  ; 
for,  from  the  destruction  of  Troy  to  the  Akme'of  Lycurgus,  was  290  years  :  and  from  Solomon, 
in  whose  time  Troy  was  taken,  to  the  time  of  the  prophets,  was  360  years. 

Thus  does  learning  accommodate  things.  Dodwell  wanted  to  fit  a  passage  in  Antilochus 
to  his  own  calculation  and  so  312  years  from  the  Elikia  of  Pythagoras,  that  is,  says  Dodwell, 
from  the  nativity  of  the  philosopher,  he  meant  taking  the  word  in  that  sense,  to  the  death 
of  Epicurus,  brings  us  exactly  to  the  time.  Who  can  forbear  smiling  ?  A  favourite  notion 

to  many  learned  men  a  sacred  thing.  Dodwell  settles  his  passage  in  Antilochus  to  his 
mind,  by  perverting  the  word  Elikia. 

This,  to  be  sure,  in  prophane  things,  can  do  no  great  harm  :  but  when  the  practice  is 
brought  into  things  sacred,  it  is  a  detriment  to  mankind.  Some  divines,  for  example,  to  sup- 
port a  notion  as  unreasonable  as  it  is  dear  to  them,  tell  us  that  the  word  Isos  signifies  strict 
equality,  not  like  :  and  that  when  St.  Paul  says  i<ra  0ea>,  we  must  construe  it,  Jesus  Christ 
was  strictly  equal  to  the  most  High  God.  This  is  sad  construction,  when  Homer,  Euripides, 
^schylus,  make  the  word  Isos  to  import  no  more  than  like.  Isanemos,  swift  as  the  wind ; 
Isatheos  phos,  like  a  God  ;  Isanerios,  like  a  dream. 

And  when  a  divine  is  positive  that  os  and  kathos,  as,  and  even  as,  words  occurring  in  the 
New  Testament,  signify  a  strict  equality,  and  not  some  sort  of  likeness ;  this  is  miserable 
perversion,  and  hurts  the  Christian  religion  very  greatly  ;  as  they  endeavour,  by  such  a  given 
sense,  to  prove  that  the  man  Christ  Jesus  is  to  be  honoured  with  the  same  divine  honours 
we  offer  to  God  the  Father  Almighty,  by  the  command  and  example  of  Jesus,  who  was  sent 
from  God,  and  was  a  worshipper  of  God ;  who  lived  obedient  to  the  laws  of  God,  preached 
those  laws  and  died  for  them  in  the  cause  of  God ;  who  was  raised  from  the  dead  by  God, 
and  now  sits  on  God's  right  hand  ;  intercedes  with  God,  and  in  his  Gospel  owns  his  Father 
to  be  his  and  our  only  true  God.  This  is  sad  accommodation.  Though  the  words  never 
signify  more  than  a  degree  of  likeness  in  the  Greek  classics,  yet  our  headstrong  orthodox 
monks  will  have  them  to  mean  strict  equality ;  and  Alexander  the  Great  and  Alexander 
the  Coppersmith  are  the  same  Being.  Amazing  !  Gentlemen  ;  here  is  but  One  Ball,  and 
out  of  itself  you  shall  see  this  one  ball  send  forth  two  other  balls,  big  as  it,  and  yet  not  lose 
one  atom  of  its  weight  and  grandeur.  Hocus  pocus,  Reverendissimi  spectatores,  the  One 
is  Three. 

And  now,  Gentlemen,  be  pleased  to  observe  the  miracle  reversed.  Pilluli  pilluli,  congre- 
gate, Presto  presto,  unite  :  observate,  Signori  Dottissimi,  the  Three  are  One.  Such  is  the 
hocus  pocus  the  monks  have  made  of  their  Trinity. 


342  THE  LIFE  OF 


a  considerable  time,  and  once  imagined  I  should  never  leave  it, 
as  it  is  the  most  romantic  and  the  most  beautiful  solitude  in  the 
world. 

While  I  was  giving  this  short  relation,  Miss  SPENCE  seemed 
greatly  amazed,  and  her  uncle,  an  old  clergyman,  who  had  looked 
with  great  attention  at  me,  hoped  it  would  be  no  offence  to  ask 
how  old  I  was. 

"  None  at  all,  Sir,"  I  replied.  "  I  want  some  months  of 
twenty-six  ;  and  though  I  dance  and  rattle  at  the  Wells,  and  am 
now  going  up  to  London,  where  all  is  tumult  and  noise,  yet  my 
passion  for  still  life  is  so  great,  that  I  prefer  the  most  silent  retreat 
to  the  pleasures  and  splendours  of  the  greatest  town.  If  it  was 
in  my  power  to  live  as  I  please,  I  would  pass  my  days  unheard  of 
and  unknown,  at  Orton-Lodge,  so  my  little  silent  farm  is  called, 
near  the  southern  confines  of  Cumberland,  with  some  bright 
partner  of  my  soul.  I  am  sure  I  should  think  it  a  complete 
paradise  to  live  in  that  distant  solitude  with  a  woman  of  Miss 
SPENCE'S  form  and  mind." 

"  But  tell  me,  I  request,"  said  MARIA,  "  how  did  you  get  to  the 
confines  of  Westmoreland  over  Stanemore  hills,  and  what  was 
that  accident  that  put  you  in  possession  of  Orton-Lodge  ?  It 
must  be  a  curious  account,  I  am  sure." 

"  This,"  I  replied,  "  you  shall  hear  to-morrow  morning  after 
breakfast ;  there  is  not  time  for  it  now.  All  I  can  say  at  present 
is,  that  it  was  love  kept  me  among  the  mountains  for  some 
years,  and  if  the  heaven-born  maid,  vastly  like  you,  Miss  SPENCE, 
she  was,  had  not,  by  the  order  of  heaven,  been  removed  to  the 
regions  of  immortality  and  day,  I  should  not  have  left  the  soli- 
tude, nor  would  you  ever  have  seen  me  at  Harrogate  :  but  destiny 
is  the  dirigent  :  mutable  is  the  condition  of  mortals,  and  we  are 
blind  to  futurity  and  the  approaches  of  fate.  This  led  me  over 
the  vast  mountains  of  Stanemore,  enabled  me  to  cross  the  amaz- 
ing fells  of  Westmoreland,  and  brought  me  to  that  spot,  where 
I  had  the  honour  and  happiness  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
Miss  SPENCE."  Thus  did  we  chat  till  eleven,  and  retired  to  our 
chambers. 

But  the  old  gentleman,  the  doctor,  when  he  came  with  me 
into  my  apartment,  told  me  we  must  have  one  bottle  more,  for 
it  was  his  nightcap,  without  which  he  could  not  sleep  :  he  then 
bid  the  servant  make  haste  with  it,  and  when  that  was  out,  we 
had  another.  He  was  a  sensible  agreeable  man,  and  pleased  me 
very  much,  as  he  appeared  a  zealous  friend  to  the  illustrious 
house  of  Hanover  ;  whereas  almost  all  the  clergymen  I  had  been 
in  company  with  since  I  came  to  England,  were  violent 
Jacobites. 

I  remember,  among  other  things,  I  asked  this  Divine,  over  our 
wine,  If  popery  is  ever  so  corrupt,  could  men  be  debarred  of 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  343 

their  rights  for  an  attachment  to  it  ?  Are  not  clowns  hereditary  ? 
And  is  not  treason  in  our  country  stamped  with  so  peculiar  an 
infamy,  as  involving  the  delinquent's  innocent  children  in  the 
forfeitures,  or  penal  consequences  that  await  it,  on  purpose  to 
check  the  rebellion  of  Britons  by  such  an  accumulated  punish- 
ment of  evil  doers  ? 

To  this  the  doctor  replied,  that  the  exclusion  of  a  popish  prince 
must  be  lawful,  if  we  ought  to  secure  our  property  and  religion, 
and,  as  in  duty  bound,  oppose  his  trampling  upon  the  laws,  and 
his  own  solemn  declarations.  If  the  people  have  privileges  and 
interests,  they  may  defend  them,  and  as  justifiably  oppose 
notorious  domestic  oppressions,  as  foreign  invasions.  The  head 
of  the  community,  has  no  more  a  license  to  destroy  the  most 
momentous  interests  of  it,  than  any  of  the  inferior  members, 
or  than  any  foreign  invader.  If  a  king  has  no  passion  to  indulge, 
incompatible  with  the  welfare  of  his  people,  then,  as  protection 
and  obedience  are  reciprocal,  and  cannot  subsist,  the  one  without 
the  other,  it  must  be  a  crime  in  the  people  not  to  honour,  and 
obey,  and  assist  the  royal  authority.  It  is  not  only  the  interest 
but  the  duty  of  the  subject  to  obey  the  prince,  who  is  true  to  the 
important  trust  reposed  in  him,  and  has  the  welfare  of  the  people 
at  heart.  But  such  a  king  cannot  be  a  papist.  The  Romish 
prince  will  not  only  stretch  a  limited  prerogative  into  lawless 
power,  and  grasp  at  absolute  monarchy  ;  but  will  break  through 
the  most  sacred  ties,  and  subvert  the  rights  he  was  sworn  to 
guard,  to  re-establish  popery  in  this  kingdom.  Could  James  II 
have  kept  the  seat  of  government,  and  baffled  all  opposition, 
we  may  conclude  from  what  he  did,  from  his  trampling  upon  the 
laws,  and  his  own  solemn  declarations  ;  from  his  new  court  of 
inquisition,  the  high  commission  court ;  to  subvert  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  church  of  England,  and  to  lay  waste  all  its  fences 
against  popery  ;  from  that  furious  act  of  his  power,  which  fell 
on  Magdalen-college,  and  his  two  cruel  acts  of  parliament  in 
Ireland,  the  repeal  of  the  act  of  settlement,  by  which  the  pro- 
testant  gentlemen  were  deprived  of  their  estates  ;  and  the  act 
of  attainder,  by  which  they  were  to  be  hanged,  for  going  to  beg 
their  bread  in  another  country,  after  they  had  been  robbed  of 
all  in  their  own  by  their  king,  who  had  sworn  to  protect  them  ; 
from  hence,  I  say,  it  is  plain,  that  if  James  could  have  sat  firm 
upon  the  throne,  his  misguided  conscience  would  have  induced 
him  to  the  most  inhuman  acts  of  violence.  He  would  have 
proceeded  to  the  barbarities,  and  rekindled  the  flames  of  Mary. 
Had  he  continued  to  reign  over  these  kingdoms,  it  is  most  certain, 
that  instruction  and  persuasion  only  would  not  have  been  the 
thing,  but  where  instruction  and  persuasion  failed,  imprison- 
ments, tortures,  death,  would  have  been  used,  to  compel  us  to 
believe  all  the  gross  absurdities  of  Rome,  their  impieties  to  God, 


344  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  contradictions  to  common  sense.  We  must  throw  away 
our  reason  and  our  bibles,  the  noblest  gifts  of  heaven,  and  neither 
think  nor  speak,  but  as  we  are  bid  by  men  no  wiser  than  ourselves  ; 
or,  we  must  expire  under  torments  as  great  as  the  devil  and  the 
monks  could  devise.  It  was  therefore  necessary,  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  our  church  and  state,  to  exclude  James  and  his  popish 
heirs.  The  common  welfare  required  this  salutary  precaution. 
The  collected  interest  of  the  community  is  the  primary  end  of 
every  law. 

All  this,  I  said,  seems  quite  right.  To  be  sure,  during  that 
short  twilight  of  power,  which  dawned  upon  popery  in  England 
in  the  years  1689  and  1690,  its  rage  was  imprudent.  It  did 
discover  its  fury  and  resentment.  In  one  of  the  Irish  acts  you 
have  mentioned,  more  than  two  thousand  people  were  attainted, 
and  some  of  them  the  most  noble  and  venerable  characters  in 
Ireland.  Yet  had  success  attended  the  arms  of  James,  this 
would  have  been  but  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  And  probably 
a  son  of  Christian  Rome  would  have  proscribed  more  in  these 
two  islands,  than  in  heathen  Rome,  out  of  the  whole  vast  Roman 
empire,  were  given  up  to  destruction  for  their  virtue,  by  the 
cruel  triumvirate,  Augustus,  Antony,  and  Lepidus.  And  of 
consequence,  since  dear  experience  convinced,  it  was  equally 
absurd  and  vain,  to  imagine  that  a  popish  head  would  govern  a 
protestant  church  by  any  councils,  but  those  of  popish  priests,  as 
it  was  to  imagine  that  a  popish  king  would  govern  a  protes- 
tant state  by  any  councils,  but  those  of  popish  counsellors  ; 
it  must  therefore  be  owned,  that  the  Lords,  and  others,  assembled 
at  Nottingham,  were  just  in  declaring,  "  that  King  James's 
administrations  were  usurpations  on  the  constitution  ;  and  that 
they  owned  it  rebellion  to  resist  a  king  that  governed  by  law  ; 
but  to  resist  a  tyrant,  who  made  his  will  his  law,  was  nothing  but 
a  necessary  defence."  This,  to  be  sure,  is  just.  But  still,  if 
crowns  are  hereditary,  and  one  severe  punishment  of  treason 
was  intended  to  check  all  rebellion,  were  we  not  a  little  too  hasty 
in  the  affair  of  the  Revolution  ?  And  might  we  not  have  ex- 
pected something  better  from  the  good  sense  and  good  nature 
of  James,  if  we  had  waited  a  while,  till  he  could  see  the  folly  of 
his  proceedings  ? 

To  this  the  Doctor  replied,  that  as  to  James's  good  sense,  it 
never  appeared  he  had  any  :  and  in  respect  of  his  many  real 
good  qualities,  they  were  extinguished  by  his  bigotry,  and  could 
never  be  of  service  to  a  protestant  spirit,  the  spirit  of  freemen  : 
it  was  therefore  incumbent  on  them,  who  knew  and  loved  the 
invaluable  blessings  they  enjoyed,  to  act  as  they  did  ;  that  is, 
as  the  wisdom  of  our  constitution  requires  in  such  cases. 

As  to  the  crown  being  hereditary,  and  the  severe  punishment 
of  treasons  ;  in  respect  of  the  first  particular,  there  is  no  natural 
or  divine  law  declares  crowns  hereditary.  If  a  certain  rule  of 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  345 

succession  has  been  established  in  most  kingdoms,  the  single 
point  of  view  in  it  was  public  good,  or  a  prevention  of  those 
intestine  commotions,  which  might  attend  an  election  :  But  as 
every  rule  is  dispensible,  and  must  give  way  when  it  defeats 
the  end  for  which  it  was  appointed  ;  should  the  customary  suc- 
cession in  a  kingdom  prove  at  any  time  productive  of  much 
greater  evils  than  those  it  was  intended  to  obviate,  it  may  ques- 
tionless be  superseded  occasionally.  This  point  is  evident  from 
reason.  Though  the  crown  in  our  own  country  is  generally 
hereditary,  yet  that  right  is  to  be  set  aside,  if  the  security  of  our 
civil  and  religious  liberty  requires  it.  If  the  pretence  of  James 
was  a  right  to  dominion,  in  opposition  not  only  to  the  sense  of 
the  legislature,  but  to  that  of  the  nation,  then  the  popish  prince 
was  justly  excluded,  for  denying  the  public  good  to  be  the  supreme 
law.  Had  the  right  he  claimed  been  established,  then  our 
religion,  our  liberties,  and  the  safety  of  our  fortunes,  had  been 
no  longer  our  own.  In  case  of  such  establishment,  the  glory  of 
our  constitution  was  no  more.  The  sum  of  the  matter  is,  the 
royal  family  of  the  Stuarts  being  Roman  Catholics,  makes  their 
case  similar  to  an  extinction  of  it. 

And  as  to  the  accumulated  punishment  of  treason  in  Great 
Britain,  that  can  only  be  designed  as  a  powerful  check  to  rebellion, 
against  a  king  whose  darling  view  is  the  welfare  of  the  people. 
No  infamy,  forfeitures,  or  death,  can  be  too  severe  for  the  man 
who  rebels  against  a  prince  that  governs  for  the  good  of  the 
people,  and  endeavours  to  transmit  our  state  safe  to  posterity. 
To  plot  against  such  a  sovereign  is  a  great  crime  indeed.  To 
conspire  against  a  prince,  whose  life  is  of  the  utmost  consequence 
to  the  community,  is  an  enormity  that  ought  to  be  stamped 
with  a  peculiar  infamy,  and  punished  in  the  severest  manner. 
But  it  can  be  no  treason  to  act  against  a  papist,  who  violates 
every  maxim  of  our  constitution,  and  by  every  maxim  of  popery 
labours  to  destroy  our  religion  and  liberties.  Every  man  may 
repel  unlawful  attempts  upon  his  person  and  property,  and  is 
armed  by  God  with  authority  for  self-defence. 

To  this  it  was  replied,  that  I  thought  the  Doctor  quite  right, 
and  for  my  own  part  was  determined  to  oppose  a  popish  prince, 
whenever  he  comes  on  with  his  unalienable  and  indefeasible 
claim,  to  introduce  his  absurd  and  cruel  religion,  to  deprive  us 
of  our  rational  Christianity,  and  to  make  us  slaves,  instead  of 
free-born  subjects.  No  popish  James,  to  write  our  themes,  but 
(filling  a  bumper)  may  this  nation  be  ever  happy  in  a  king  whose 
right  is  founded  upon  law,  and  who  has  made  it  the  rule  of  his 
government.  May  Britons  ever  remember  the  merciless  rage 
of  popery,  and  the  envious  malice  of  France  ;  each  ready  to  lay 
waste  the  whole  fabric  of  our  excellent  constitution,  and  cry 
aloud,  with  all  the  embittered  sons  of  Edom,  Down  with  it,  down 


346  THE  LIFE  OF 


with  it,  even  to  the  ground.     Here  the  clock  struck  one,  and  we 
parted. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  was  up,  according  to  my  wont,  and 
walked  out,  to  look  at  the  place.  Cleator  is  one  of  the  finest 
spots  that  can  be  seen,  in  a  wild  romantic  country.  The  natural 
views  are  wonderful,  and  afford  the  eye  vast  pleasure.  The  charm- 
ing prospects  of  different  kinds,  from  the  edges  of  the  mountains, 
are  very  fine.  The  winding  hills,  pretty  plains,  vast  precipices, 
hanging  woods,  deep  dales,  the  easy  falls  of  water  in  some  places, 
and  in  others  cataracts  tumbling  over  rocks,  form  all  together 
the  most  beautiful  and  delightful  scenes.  All  the  decorations 
of  art  are  but  foils  and  shadows  to  such  natural  charms. 

In  the  midst  of  these  scenes,  and  in  a  theatrical  space  of  about 
two  hundred  acres,  which  the  hand  of  nature  cut,  or  hollowed 
out,  on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  stands  Cleator- Lodge,  a  neat  and 
pretty  mansion.  Near  it  were  groves  of  various  trees,  and  the 
water  of  a  strong  spring  murmured  from  the  front  down  to  a 
lake  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill. 

This  was  Miss  SPENCE'S  country-house.  Here  the  wise  and 
excellent  MARIA  passed  the  best  part  of  her  time,  and  never  went 
to  any  public  place  but  Harrogate  once  a  year.  In  reading, 
riding,  fishing,  and  some  visits  to  and  from  three  or  four  neigh- 
bours now  and  then,  her  hours  were  happily  and  usefully  em- 
ployed. History  and  Mathematics  she  took  great  delight  in, 
and  had  a  very  surprising  knowledge  in  the  last.  She  was 
another  of  those  ladies  I  met  with  in  my  travels,  who  understood 
that  method  of  calculation,  beyond  wh:ch  nothing  further  is  to 
be  hoped  or  expected  ;  I  mean  the  arithmetic  of  fluxions. 

Very  few  men  among  the  learned  can  consider  magnitudes 
as  generated  by  motion,  or  determine  their  proportions  one  to 
another  from  the  celerities  of  the  motion  by  which  they  are 
generated.  I  question  if  the  Critical  Reviewers  can  do  it ;  I  am 
sure  they  cannot,  though  they  have  made  so  licentiously  free 
with  me.  They  may,  however,  pretend  to  know  something  of 
the  matter,  and  so  did  Berkeley,  the  late  Bishop  of  Cloyne  in 
Ireland  ;  yet  that  prelate,  in  reality,  understood  no  more  of  the 
method  than  a  porter  does,  though  he  presumed  to  write  against 
it,  and  the  divine  Newton,  the  inventor  of  it.  But  MARIA  SPENCE, 
in  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  her  age,  was  at  this  time  a  master 
in  the  fluxionary  way.  She  had  not  only  a  clear  and  adequate 
notion  of  fluxions,  but  was  able  to  penetrate  into  the  depths  of 
this  science,  and  had  made  sublime  discoveries  in  this  incompar- 
able method  of  reasoning.  She  astonished  me.  I  thought  Mrs. 
BURCOTT  and  Mrs.  FLETCHER,  mentioned  in  my  first  volume, 
were  very  extraordinary  women,  on  account  of  their  knowledge 
in  algebra,  and  the  fine  answers  they  gave  to  the  most  difficult 
problems  in  universal  arithmetic  ;  but  this  sort  of  reasoning 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  347 

is  far  inferior  to  the  fluxioriary  method  of  calculation  ;  as  the 
latter  opens  and  discovers  tous  the  secrets  and  recesses  of  nature, 
which  have  always  before  been  locked  up  in  obscurity  and  dark- 
ness.    By  fluxions,   such  difficulties  are  resolved,   as  raise  the 
wonder  and  surprise  of  all  mankind,  and  which  would  in  vain 
be  attempted  by  any  other  method  whatsoever.     What  then 
must  we  think  of  a  young  woman  well  skilled  in  such  work  ; 
not  only  able  to  find  the  fluxions  of  flowing  or  determinate 
quantities,  that  is,  the  velocities  with  which  they  arise  or  begin 
to  be  generated  in  the  first  moments  of  formation,  called  the 
velocities  of  the  incremental  parts  and  the  velocities  in  the  last 
ratios,  as  vanishing  or  ceasing  to  be  ;    but  from  given  fluxions 
to  find  the  fluents  ;  and  be  ready  in  drawing  tangents  to  curves  ; 
in  the  solution  of  problems  de  maximis  et  minimis,  that  is,  the 
greatest  or  least  possible  quantity  attainable  in  any  case  ;  in  the 
invention  of  points  of  inflection  and  retrogression  ;  in  finding  the 
evoluta  of  a  given  curve  ;  in  finding  the  caustic  curves,  by  reflec- 
tion and  refraction,  &c.,  &c.,  this  was  amazing  beyond  anything 
I  had    seen  ;  or  have  ever  seen  since,  except  Mrs.  BENLOW,  of 
Richmondshire,    with    whom    I    became    acquainted   in    1739.* 
With  astonishment  I  beheld  her.     I  was  but  a  young  beginner, 
or  learner,  in  respect  of  her,  though  I  had  applied  so  close  to 
fluxions  after  I  had  learned  algebra,  that  my  head  was  often 
ready  to  split  with  pain  ;  nor  had  I  the  capacity,  at  that  time, 
to  comprehend  thoroughly  the  process  of  several  operations  she 
performed    with    beauty,    simplicity,    and    charming    elegance. 
Admirable  MARIA  !     No  one   have   I   ever  seen  that  was   her 
superior  in  this  science  :   one  equal  only  have  I  known,  the  lady 
a  little  before  mentioned.     And  does  not  this  demonstrate,  that 
the   faculties   and   imagination    of    women's    minds,    properly 
cultivated,  may  equal  those  of  the  greatest  men  ?     And  since 
women  have  the  same  improvable  minds  as  the  male  part  of  the 
species,  why  should  they  not  be  cultivated  by  the  same  method  ? 
Why  should  reason  be  left  to  itself  in  one  of  the  sexes,  and  be 
disciplined  with  so  much  care  in  the  other.     Learning  and  know- 
ledge are  perfections  in  us  not  as  we  are  men,  but  as  we  are  rational 
creatures,  in  which  order  of  beings  the  female  world  is  upon  the 
same  level  with  the  male.     We  ought  to  consider  in  this  particular, 
not  what  is  the  sex,  but  what  is  the  species  they  belong  to.     And 
if  women  of  fortune  were  so  considered,  and  educated  accordingly, 
I  am  sure  the  world  would  soon  be  the  better  for  it.     It  would 
be  so  far  from  making  them  those  ridiculous  mortals  Moliere 
has  described  under  the  character  of  learned  ladies  ;    that  it 
would  render  them  more  agreeable  and  useful,  and  enable  them 
by  the  acquisition  of  true  sense  and  knowledge,  to  be  superior 

*  See  Memain  of  sever  at  Ladies  of  Great  Britain,  1755,  8vo. 


348  THE  LIFE  OF 


to  gayety  and  spectacle,  dress  and  dissipation.  They  would  see 
that  the  sovereign  good  can  be  placed  in  nothing  else  but  in 
rectitude  of  conduct ;  as  that  is  agreeable  to  our  nature  ;  con- 
ducive to  well-being ;  accommodate  to  all  places  and  times  ; 
durable,  self-derived,  indeprivable ;  and  of  consequence,  that 
on  rational  and  masculine  religion  only  they  can  rest  the  sole 
of  the  foot,  and  the  sooner  they  turn  to  it,  the  happier  here  and 
hereafter  they  shall  be.  Long  before  the  power  of  sense,  like 
the  setting  sun,  is  gradually  forsaking  them,  that  power  on  which 
the  pleasures  of  the  world  depend,  they  would,  by  their  acquired 
understanding  and  knowledge,  see  the  folly  of  pleasure,  and  that 
they  were  born  not  only  to  virtue,  friendship,  honesty,  and  faith, 
but  to  religion,  piety,  adoration,  and  a  generous  surrender  of 
their  minds  to  the  supreme  cause.  They  would  be  glorious 
creatures  then.  Every  family  would  be  happy. 

But  as  to  Miss  SPENCE,  this  knowledge,  with  a  faultless  person, 
and  a  modesty  more  graceful  than  her  exquisite  beauty,  were 
not  the  things  that  principally  charmed  me  :  nor  was  it  her 
conversation,  than  which  nothing  could  be  more  lively  and 
delightful :  nor  her  fine  fortune.  It  was  her  manners.  She 
was  a  Christian  Deist,  and  considered  Benevolence  and  Integrity 
as  the  essentials  of  her  religion.  She  imitated  the  piety  and 
devotion  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  worshipped  his  God  and  our  God, 
his  Father  and  our  Father,  as  St.  John  expressly  stiles  the  God 
of  Christians,  ch.  xx.  v.  17.  She  was  extremely  charitable 
to  others,  and  considered  conscious' virtue  as  the  greatest  orna- 
ment and  most  valuable  treasure  of  human  nature.  Excellent 
MARIA  ! 

With  this  young  lady,  and  her  two  servants,  her  footman  and 
her  woman,  I  went  up  to  London.  We  set  out  from  Cleator  the 
3ist  day  of  July,  and  without  meeting  with  any  mischief  in  all 
that  long  way,  came  safe  to  London.  We  were  nine  days  on  the 
road  ;  and  as  the  weather  was  fine,  and  our  horses  excellent, 
we  had  a  charming  journey.  My  companion  was  so  agreeable, 
that  had  it  been  two  thousand  miles  from  Cleator  to  London, 
instead  of  two  hundred  and  seventy-two,  I  should  still  have 
thought  it  too  short.  Her  conversation  was  so  various  and 
fine,  that  no  way  could  seem  tiresome  and  tedious  to  him  that 
travelled  with  her.  Her  notions  and  remarks  were  ever  lively 
and  instructive.  It  was  vast  pleasure  to  hear  her,  even  on  the 
driest  and  most  abstruse  subjects,  on  account  of  the  admiration 
her  discourse  raised,  and  the  fine  knowledge  it  communicated, 
to  one  who  understood  her.  I  will  give  an  instance. 

In  riding  over  the  mountains  the  first  day,  we  missed  the  road 
in  the  evening,  and  instead  of  getting  to  a  very  good  inn,  where 
we  intended  to  rest,  we  were  forced  to  stop  at  a  poor  littlerpublic 
house,  and  right  glad  to  get  in  there  as  the  evening  was  tempes- 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  349 


tuous  and  wet,  dark  and  cold.  Here  we  got  some  bacon  and 
fresh  eggs  for  supper,  and  the  ale  was  good,  which  amused  us 
well  enough  till  nine  o'clock.  We  then  proposed  to  play  at 
cribbage  for  an  hour,  and  called  for  a  pack  of  cards  ;  but  they 
had  none  in  the  house,  and  we  were  obliged  to  divert  ourselves 
with  conversation,  till  it  was  time  to  retire.  Miss  SPENCE  began 
in  the  following  manner. 

"  Was  Newton,  Sir,  or  Leibnitz,  the  author  of  that  method 
of  calculation,  which  lends  its  aid  and  assistance  to  all  the  other 
mathematical  sciences,  and  that  in  their  greatest  wants  and 
distresses  ?  I  have  heard  a  foreigner  affirm,  that  the  German 
was  the  inventor  of  fluxions." 

"  That  cannot  be,"  I  replied.  "  In  1696,  Dr.  Barrow  received 
from  Newton  a  demonstration  of  the  rule  of  the  quadrature 
of  curves,  which  the  Doctor  communicated  to  Collins;  and  as 
this  is  the  foundation  of  fluxions,  and  the  differential  calculus, 
it  is  evident  Newton  had  invented  the  method  before  that  time. 

"  In  the  beginning  of  1673,  Leibnitz  was  in  England,  again 
in  October,  1676 ;  and  the  interval  of  this  time  he  spent  in  France, 
during  which  he  kept  a  correspondence  with  Oldenburgh,  and 
by  his  means  with  Collins  ;  and  sometimes  also  with  Newton, 
from  the  last  of  whom  he  received  a  letter,  dated  June  18, 
1676,  wherein  is  taught  the  method  of  reducing  quantities  into 
infinite  series,  that  is,  of  exhibiting  the  increments  of  flowing 
quantities.  This  method  was  utterly  unknown  to  Leibnitz, 
before  he  received  the  abovesaid  letter  of  Newton's,  as  he  him- 
self acknowledges  in  a  letter  to  Oldenburgh,  dated  August  27, 
1676  ;  for  before  that  time,  he  says  in  his  letter,  he  was  obliged 
to  transform  an  irrational  quantity  into  a  rational  fraction, 
and  thence  by  division,  after  the  method  of  Mercator,  to  reduce 
the  fraction  into  a  series. 

"  It  is  likewise  certain,  that  Leibnitz  did  not  then  understand 
these  series,  because,  in  the  same  letter,  he  desires  Newton 
would  explain  to  him  the  manner  how  he  got  these  series.  And 
again  in  a  second  letter  from  Newton  to  Leibnitz,  dated  Octo- 
ber 24,  1676,  he  gives  yet  clearer  hints  of  his  method,  and 
illustrates  it  by  examples,  and  lays  down  a  rule,  by  which,  from 
the  ordinates  of  certain  curves,  their  areas  may  be  obtained 
in  finite  terms,  when  it  is  possible. 

"  By  these  lights,  and  assisted  by  such  examples,  the  acute 
Leibnitz  might  have  learned  the  Newtonian  method,  and  indeed 
it  is  plain  he  did  so  ;  for  in  1684,  he  first  published,  in  the  Leipsic 
Acts,  his  Elements  of  the  Differential  Calculus,  without  pre- 
tending to  have  had  the  method  before  the  year  1677,  in  which 
he  received  the  two  letters  from  Newton  :  and  yet,  when  Sir 
Isaac  published  his  books  ^of  the  number  of  curves  of  the  first 
kind,  and  of  the  quadrature  of  figures,  the  editors  of  the  Actt 


350  THE  LIFE  OF 


said  Leibnitz  was  the  first  inventor  of  the  differential  calculus, 
and  Newton  had  substituted  fluxions  for  differences,  just  as 
Honoratus  Faber,  in  his  Synopsis  Geometrica,  had  substituted 
a  progression  of  motion  for  Cavallerius'  method  of  indivisibles  ; 
that  is  Leibnitz  was  the  first  inventor  of  the  method.  Newton 
had  received  it  from  his  Elements  of  the  Differential  Calculus, 
and  had  substituted  fluxions  for  differences  ;  but  the  way  of 
investigation  in  each  is  the  same,  and  both  centre  in  the  same 
conclusions. 

"  This  excited  KEILL  to  reply,  and  he  made  it  appear  very  plain 
from  Sir  Isaac's  letters,  published  by  Dr.  Wallis,  that  Newton 
was  the  first  inventor  of  the  algorith,  or  practical  rules  of  fluxions  ; 
and  Leibnitz  did  no  more  than  publish  the  same,  with  an  altera- 
tion of  the  name,  and  manner  of  notation.  This  however  did 
not  silence  Leibnitz,  nor  satisfy  the  foreigners  who  admired  him. 
He  abused  Dr.  Keill,  and  appealed  to  the  Royal  Society  against 
him  ;  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  restrain  the  Doctor's  vain 
babblings  and  unjust  calumniations,  and  report  their  judgment 
as  he  thought  they  ought  to  do,  that  is,  in  his  favour.  But 
this  was  not  in  the  power  of  the  Society,  if  they  did  justice  ; 
for  it  appeared  quite  clear  to  a  committee  of  the  members, 
appointed  to  examine  the  original  letters,  and  other  papers, 
relating  to  the  matter,  which  were  left  by  Oldenburgh  and 
Collins,  that  Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  the  first  inventor  of  fluxions  ; 
and  accordingly  they  published  their  opinion.  This  deter- 
mines the  affair.  When  this  is  the  case,  it  is  senseless  for  any 
foreigner  to  say  Leibnitz  was  the  author  of  fluxions.  To  the 
divine  Newton  belongs  this  greatest  work  of  genius,  and  the 
noblest  thought  that  ever  entered  the  human  mind." 

"  It  must  be  so,"  replied  MARIA.  "  As  the  case  is  stated, 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  was  most  certainly  the  inventor  of  the  method 
of  fluxions  :  and  supposing  Leibnitz  had  been  able  to  discover 
and  work  the  differential  calculus,  without  the  lights  he  received 
from  Newton,  it  would  not  from  thence  follow,  that  he  under- 
stood the  true  method  of  fluxions  :  for,  though  a  differential 
has  been,  and  to  this  day  is,  by  many,  called  a  fluxion,  and  a 
fluxion  a  differential,  yet  it  is  an  abuse  of  terms.  A  fluxion 
has  no  relation  to  a  differential,  nor  a  differential  to  a  fluxion. 
The  principles  upon  which  the  methods  are  founded  shew  them 
to  be  very  different,  notwithstanding  the  way  of  investigation 
in  each  be  the  same,  and  that  both  centre  in  the  same  con- 
clusions :  nor  can  the  differential  method  perform  what  the 
fluxionary  method  can.  The  excellency  of  the  fluxionary 
method  is  far  above  the  differential." 

This  remark  on  the  two  methods  surprised  me  very  much, 
and  especially  as  it  was  made  by  a  young  lady.  I  had  not  then 
a  notion  of  the  difference,  and  had  been  taught  by  my  master 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  35 1 

to  proceed  on  the  principles  of  the  Differential  Calculus.  This 
made  me  request  an  explication  of  the  matter,  and  MARIA  went 
on  in  the  following  manner. 

"  Magnitudes,  as  made  up  of  an  infinite  number  of  very  small 
constituent  parts  put  together,  are  the  work  of  the  Differential 
Calculus  ;  but  by  the  fluxionary  method,  we  are  taught  to  con- 
sider magnitudes  as  generated  by  motion.  A  described  line 
in  this  way,  is  not  generated  by  an  apposition  of  points,  or  dif- 
ferentials, but  by  the  motion  or  flux  of  a  point ;  and  the  velocity 
of  the  generating  point  in  the  first  moment  of  its  formation, 
or  generation,  is  called  its  fluxion.  In  forming  magnitudes 
after  the  differential  way,  we  conceive  them  as  made  up  of  an 
infinite  number  of  small  constituent  parts,  so  disposed  as  to 
produce  a  magnitude  of  a  given  form  ;  that  these  parts  are  to 
each  other  as  the  magnitudes  of  which  they  are  differentials  ; 
and  that  one  infinitely  small  part,  or  differential,  must  be  in- 
finitely great,  with  respect  to  another  other  differential,  or 
infinitely  small  part :  but  by  fluxion,  or  the  law  of  flowing,  we 
determine  the  proportion  of  magnitudes  one  to  another,  from 
the  celerities  of  the  motions  by  which  they  are  generated.  This 
most  certainly  is  the  purest  abstracted  way  of  reasoning.  Our 
considering  the  different  degrees  of  magnitude,  as  arising  from 
an  increasing  series  of  mutations  of  velocity,  is  much  more 
simple,  and  less  perplexed  than  the  other  way  ;  and  the  opera- 
tions founded  on  fluxions,  must  be  much  more  clear,  accurate, 
and  convincing,  than  those  that  are  founded  on  the  Differential 
Calculus.  There  is  a  great  difference  in  operations,  when  quan- 
tities are  rejected,  because  they  really  vanish  ;  and  when  they 
are  rejected,  because  they  are  infinitely  small  :  the  latter  method, 
which  is  the  differential,  must  leave  the  mind  in  ambiguity 
and  confusion,  and  cannot  in  many  cases  come  up  to  the  truth. 
It  is  a  very  great  error  then  to  call  differentials,  fluxions,  and 
quite  wrong  to  begin  with  the  differential  method,  in  order  to 
learn  the  law  or  manner  of  flowing." 

With  amazement  I  heard  this  discourse,  and  requested  to 
know  by  what  master,  and  what  method,  she  obtained  these 
notions  ;  for  they  were  far  beyond  everything  on  the  subject 
that  I  had  ever  met  with.  What  she  said  concerning  the  nature 
and  idea  of  fluxions,  I  thought  just  and  beautiful,  and  I  believe 
it  was  in  her  power,  to  show  the  bases  on  which  they  are  erected. 

"  My  master,  sir,"  said  MARIA,  "  was  a  poor  traveller,  a 
Scotchman,  one  MARTIN  MURDOCH,  who  came  by  accident  to 
my  father's  house,  to  ask  relief,  when  I  was  about  fifteen  years 
old.  He  told  us,  he  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  ministers  of  Scot- 
land, and  came  from  the  remotest  part  of  the  Highlands  :  that 
his  father  taught  him  mathematics,  and  left  him,  at  his  death, 
a  little  stock  on  a  small  farm  ;  but  misfortunes  and  accidents 


352  THE  LIFE  OF 


obliged  him  in  a  short  time  to  break  up  house,  and  he  was  going 
to  London,  to  try  if  he  could  get  anything  there,  by  teaching 
arithmetic  of  every  kind.  My  father,  who  was  a  hospitable 
man,  invited  him  to  stay  with  us  a  few  days,  and  the  parson 
of  our  parish  soon  found,  that  he  had  not  only  a  very  extra- 
ordinary understanding,  but  was  particularly  excellent  at  figures, 
and  the  other  branches  of  the  mathematics.  My  father  upon 
this  agreed  with  him  to  be  my  preceptor  for  five  years,  and 
during  four  years  and  nine  months  of  that  time,  he  took  the 
greatest  pains  to  make  me  as  perfect  as  he  could  in  arithmetic, 
trigonometry,  geometry,  algebra,  and  fluxions.  As  I  delighted 
in  the  study  above  all  things,  I  was  a  great  proficient  for  so  few 
years,  and  had  MURDOCH  been  longer  with  me,  I  should  have 
been  well  acquainted  with  the  whole  glorious  structure  :  but 
towards  the  end  of  the  fifth  year,  this  poor  Archimedes  was 
unfortunately  drowned,  in  crossing  one  of  our  rivers,  in  the 
winter  time,  and  went  in  that  uncomfortable  way,  in  the  thirty- 
sixth  year  of  his  age,  to  the  enjoyment  of  that  felicity  and  glory, 
which  God  has  prepared  for  a  virtuous  life  and  honest  heart. 
Why  such  men,  as  the  poor  and  admirable  MURDOCH,  have 
often  such  hard  measure  in  this  world,  is  not  in  my  power  to 
account  for,  nor  do  I  believe  any  one  can  ;  but  what  I  tell  you 
is  one  of  those  surprising  things,  and  I  lamented  not  a  little  the 
loss  of  such  a  master.  Still  however  I  continued  to  study  by 
many  written  rules  he  had  given  me,  and  to  this  day,  mathe- 
matics are  the  greatest  pleasure  of  my  life. 

"As  to  our  method,  my  master,  in  the  first  place,  made  me 
perfectly  understand  arithmetic,  and  then  geometry,  and  algebra 
in  all  their  parts  and  improvements,  the  methods  of  series, 
doctrine  of  proportions,  nature  of  logarithms,  mechanics,  and 
laws  of  motion  :  from  thence  we  proceeded  to  the  pure  doctrine 
of  fluxions,  and  at  last  looked  into  the  Differential  Calculus. 
In  this  true  way  my  excellent  master  led  me,  and  in  the  same 
difficult  path  every  one  must  go,  who  intends  to  learn  Fluxions. 
It  would  be  but  "lost  labour  for  any  person  to  attempt  them, 
who  was  unacquainted  with  these  Precognita. 

*'  When  we  turned  to  fluxions,  the  first  thing  my  master  did, 
was  to  instruct  me  in  the  arithmetic  of  exponents,  the  nature 
of  powers,  and  the  manner  of  their  generation.  We  went  next 
to  the  doctrine  of  infinite  series  ;  and  then,  to  the  manner  of 
generating  mathematical  quantities.  This  generation  of  quan- 
tities was  my  first  step  into  fluxions,  and  my  master  so  amply 
explained  the  nature  of  them,  in  this  operation,  that  I  was  able 
to  form  a  just  idea  of  a  first  fluxion,  though  thought  by  many 
to  be  incomprehensible.  We  proceeded  from  thence  to  the 
notation  and  algorithm  of  first  fluxions  ;  to  the  finding  second, 
third,  &c.,  fluxions  ;  the  finding  fluxions  of  exponential  quan- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  353 

titles  ;  and  the  fluents  from  given  fluxions  ;  to  their  uses  in 
drawing  tangents  to  curves  ;  in  finding  the  areas  of  spaces  ; 
the  valves  of  surfaces  ;  and  the  contents  of  solids  ;  their  per- 
cussion, oscillation,  and  centres  of  gravity.  All  these  things 
my  master  so  happily  explained  to  my  understanding,  that  I 
was  able  to  work  with  ease,  and  found  no  more  difficulty  in 
conceiving  an  adequate  notion  of  a  nascent  or  evanescent  quan- 
tity, than  in  forming  a  true  idea  of  a  mathematical  point.  In 
short,  by  the  time  I  had  studied  fluxions  two  years,  I  not  only 
understood  their  fundamental  principles  and  operations,  and 
could  investigate,  and  give  the  solution  of  the  most  general  and 
useful  problems  in  the  mathematics  ;  but  likewise,  solve  several 
problems  that  occur  in  the  phenomena  of  nature." 

Here  MARIA,  stopped,  and  as  soon  as  astonishment  would 
permit  me  to  speak,  I  proposed  to  her  several  difficult  questions, 
I  had  heard,  but  was  not  then  able  to  answer.  I  requested  her, 
in  the  first  place,  to  inform  me,  how  the  time  of  a  body's  descend- 
ing through  any  arch  of  a  cycloid  was  found  :  and  if  ten  hundred 
weight  avoirdupoise,  hanging  on  a  bar  of  steel  perfectly  elastic, 
and  supported  at  both  ends,  will  just  break  the  bar,  what  must 
be  the  weight  of  a  globe,  falling  perpendicular  185  feet  on  the 
middle  of  the  bar,  to  have  the  same  effect  ? — My  next  ques- 
tions were,  how  long,  and  how  far,  ought  a  given  globe  to  descend 
by  its  comparative  weight  in  a  medium  of  a  given  density,  but 
without  resistance,  to  acquire  the  greatest  velocity  it  is  capable 
of  in  descending  with  the  same  weight,  and  in  the  same  medium, 
with  resistance  ? — And  how  are  we  to  find  the  value  of  a  solid 
formed  by  the  rotation  of  this  curvilinear  space,  A  C  D  about 
the  axis  A  D,  the  general  equation,  expressing  the  nature  of 
the  curve, 

m 
n 

a  —  x  x  x 
being  y  =  — — —  ? — How  is  the  centre  of   gravity  to  be  found 

a" 

of  the  space  enclosed  by  an  hyperbola,  and  its  asymptete  ? 
And  how  are  we  to  find  the  centre  oscillation  of  a  sphere  re- 
volving about  the  line  P  A  M,  a  tangent,  to  the  generating  circle 
F  A  H,  in  the  point  A,  as  an  axis  ? — These  questions  MARIA 
answered  with  a  celerity  and  elegance  that  again  amazed  me, 
and  convinced  me  that,  notwithstanding  the  Right  Rev.  meta- 
physical disputant,  Dr.  Berkeley,  late  Bishop  of  Cloyne  in  Ire- 
land, could  not  understand  the  doctrine  of  fluxions,  and  therefore 
did  all  he  could  to  disgrace  them,  and  the  few  mathematicians 
who  have  studied  magnitudes  as  generated  by  motion ;  yet, 
the  doctrine.,  as  delivered  by  the  divine  Newton,  may  be  clearly 

N 


354  THE  LIFE  OF 


conceived,  and  distinctly  comprehended ;  that  the  principles 
upon  which  it  is  founded,  are  true,  and  the  demonstrations  of 
its  rules  conclusive.  No  opposition  can  hurt  it. 

When  I  observed,  that  some  learned  men  will  not  allow  that 
a  velocity  which  continues  for  no  time  at  all,  can  possibly  de- 
scribe any  space  at  all  :  its  effect,  they  say,  is  absolutely  nothing, 
and  instead  of  satisfying  reason  with  truth  and  precision,  the 
human  faculties  are  quite  confounded,  lost,  and  bewildered 
in  fluxions.  A  velocity  or  fluxion  is  at  best  we  do  not  know 
what ;  whether  something  or  nothing  :  and  how  can  the  mind 
lay  hold  on,  or  form  any  accurate  abstract  idea  of  such  a  subtile, 
fleeting  thing  ? 

"  Disputants,"  answered  MARIA,  "  may  perplex  with  deep 
speculations,  and  confound  with  mysterious  disquisitions,  but 
the  method  of  fluxions  has  no  dependance  on  such  things. 
The  operation  is  not  what  any  single  abstract  velocity  can 
generate  or  describe  of  itself,  but  what  a  continual  and  suc- 
cessively variable  velocity  can  produce  in  the  whole.  And  cer- 
tainly, a  variable  cause  may  produce  a  variable  effect,  as  well 
as  a  permanent  cause  a  permanent  and  constant  effect.  The 
difference  can  only  be,  that  the  continual  variation  of  the  effect 
must  be  proportional  to  the  continual  variation  of  the  cause. 
The  method  of  fluxions  therefore  is  true,  whether  we  can  or 
cannot  conceive  the  nature  and  manner  of  several  things  re- 
lating to  them,  though  we  had  no  ideas  of  perpetually  arising 
increments,  and  magnitudes  in  nascent  or  evanescent  states. 
The  knowledge  of  such  things  is  not  essential  to  fluxions.  All 
they  propose  is,  to  determine  the  velocity  or  flowing  wherewith 
a  generated  quantity  increases,  and  to  sum  up  all  that  has  been 
generated  or  described  by  the  continually  variable  fluxion. 
On  these  two  bases  fluxions  stand." 

This  was  clear  and  just,  and  showed  that  the  nature  and 
idea  of  fluxions  is  agreeable  to  the  nature  and  constitution  of 
things.  They  can  have  no  dependance  upon  any  metaphysical 
speculations,  such  speculations  as  that  anti-mathematician, 
my  Lord  of  Cloyne,  brought  in,  to  cavil  and  dispute  against 
principles  he  understood  nothing  of,  and  maliciously  run  the 
account  of  them  into  the  dark  ;  but  are  the  genuine  offspring 
of  nature  and  truth.  An  instance  or  two  may  illustrate  the 
matter. 

i.  A  heavy  body  descends  perpendicularly  i61J2-  feet  in  a 
second,  and  at  the  end  of  this  time,  has  acquired  a  velocity 
of  321  feet  in  a  second,  which  is  accurately  known.  At  any 
given  distance  then  from  the  place  the  body  fell,  take  the  point 
A  in  the  right  line,  and  the  velocity  of  the  falling  body  in  the 
point  may  be  truly  computed  :  but  the  velocity  in  any  point 
above  A,  at  ever  so  small  a  distance,  will  be  less  than  in  A  ; 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  355 

and  the  velocity  at  any  point  below  A,  at  the  least  possible 
distance,  will  be  greater  than  in  A.  It  is  therefore  plain,  that 
in  the  point  A,  the  body  has  a  certain  determined  velocity, 
which  belongs  to  no  other  point  in  the  whole  line.  Now  this 
velocity  is  the  fluxion  of  that  right  line  in  the  point  A  ;  and  with 
it  the  body  would  proceed,  if  gravity  acted  no  longer  on  the 
body's  arrival  at  A. 

2.  Take  a  glass  tube  open  at  both  ends  whose  concavity  is 
of  different   diameters  in   different  places,   and  immerse  it  in 
a  stream,  till  the  water  fills  the  tube,  and  flows  through  it.   Then, 
in  different  parts  of  the  tube,  the  velocity  of  the  water  will  be 
as  the  squares  of  the  diameters,  and  of  consequence  different. 
Suppose  then,  in  any  marked  place,  a  plane  to  pass  through 
the  tube  perpendicular  to  the  axis,  or  to  the  motion  of  the  water, 
and  of  consequence,   the  water  will  pass  through  this  section 
with   a   certain   determinate   velocity.     But  if   another   section 
be  drawn  ever  so  near  the  former,  the  water,  by  reason  of  the 
different  diameters,  will  flow  through  this  with  a  velocity  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  did  at  the  former,   and  therefore  to  one 
section  of  the  tube,  or  single  point  only,  the  determinate  velocity 
belongs.     It  is  the  fluxion  of  the  space  which  the  fluid  describes 
at  that  section  ;  and  with  that  uniform  velocity  the  fluid  would 
continue  to  move,  if  the  diameter  was  the  same  to  the  end  of 
the  tube. 

3.  If  a  hollow  cylinder  be  filled  with  water  to  flow  freely  out 
through  a  hole  at  the  bottom,  the  velocity  of  the  effluent  will 
be  as  the  height  of  the  water,  and  since  the  surface  of  the  in- 
cumbent fluid  descends  without  stop,  the  velocity  of  the  stream 
will  decrease,  till  the  effluent  be  all  out.     There  can  then  be 
no  two  moments  of  time,  succeeding  each  other  ever  so  nearly, 
wherein  the  velocity  of  the  water  is  the  same  ;  and  of  conse- 
quence, the  velocity,  at  any  given  point,  belongs  only  to  that 
particular  indivisible  moment  of  time.     Now  this  is  accurately 
the  fluxion  of  the  fluid  then  flowing  ;  and  if,  at  that  instant, 
more  water  was  poured  into  the  cylinder,  to  make  the  surface 
keep  its  place,  the  effluent  would  retain  its  velocity,  and  still 
be  the  fluxion  of  the  fluid.     Such  are  the  operations  of  nature, 
and  they  visibly  confirm  the  nature  of  Fluxion.     It  is   from 
hence   quite   clear,   that  the  fluxion  of   a   generated   quantity, 
cannot  retain  any  one  determined  value  for  the  least  space  of 
time  whatever,  but  the  moment  it  arrives  at  that  value,  the 
same  moment  it  loses  it  again.     The  fluxion  of  such  quantity 
can  only  pass  gradually  and  successively  through  the  indefinite 
degrees  contained  between  the  two  extreme  values,  which  are 
the  limits  thereof,  during  the  generation  of  the  fluent,  in  case 
the  fluxion  be  variable.     But  then,  though  a  determinate  degree 
of  fluxion  does  not  continue  at  all,  yet,  at  every  determinate 


356  THE  LIFE  OF 


indivisible  moment  of  time,  every  fluent  has  some  determinate 
degree  of  fluxion  ;  that  is,  every  generated  quantity  has  every- 
where a  certain  rate  of  increasing,  a  fluxion  whose  abstract 
value  is  determinate  in  itself,  though  the  fluxion  has  no  deter- 
mined value  for  the  least  space  of  time  whatever.  To  find  its 
value  then,  that  is,  the  ratio  one  fluxion  has  to  another,  is  a 
problem  strictly  geometrical ;  notwithstanding  the  Right  Rev. 
anti-mathematician  has  declared  the  contrary,  in  his  hatred 
to  mathematicians,  and  his  ignorance  of  the  true  principles  of 
mathematics. 

If  my  Lord  of  Cloyne  had  been  qualified  to  examine  and 
consider  the  case  of  fluxions,  and  could  have  laid  aside  that 
unaccountable  obstinacy,  and  invincible  prejudice,  which  made 
him  resolve  to  yield  to  no  reason  on  the  subject ;  not  to  regard 
even  the  great  Maclaurin's  answer  to  his  Analyst,  he  would 
have  discovered,  that  it  was  very  possible  to  find  the  abstract 
value  of  a  generated  quantity,  or  the  contemporary  increment 
of  any  compound  quantity.  By  the  binomial  theorem,  the 
ratio  of  the  fluxion  of  a  simple  quantity  to  the  fluxion  of  that 
compound  quantity,  may  be  had  in  general,  in  the  lowest  terms, 
and  as  near  the  truth  as  we  please,  whilst  we  suppose  some  very 
small  increment  actually  described.  And  whereas  the  ratio 
of  these  fluxions  is  required  for  some  one  indivisible  point  of 
the  fluid,  in  the  very  beginning  of  the  increment,  and  before 
it  is  generated,  we  make,  in  the  particular  case,  the  values  of 
the  simple  increments  nothing,  which  before  was  expressed  in 
general :  then  all  the  terms  wherein  they  are  found  vanish,  and 
what  is  left  accurately  shews  the  relation  of  the  fluxions  for  the 
point  where  the  increment  is  supposed  to  commence.  As  the 
abstract  value  of  the  fluxion  belongs  only  to  one  point  of  the 
fluent,  the  moments  are  made  to  vanish,  after  we  have  seen 
by  their  continual  diminution,  whither  the  ratio  tends,  and 
what  it  continually  verges  to ;  and  this  becomes  as  visible  as 
the  very  character  it  is  written  in. 

But  Bishop  Berkeley  was  unacquainted  with  mathematical 
principles,  and  out  of  his  aversion  to  these  sciences,  and  zeal 
for  orthodoxy,  cavilled  and  disputed  with  all  his  might,  and 
endeavoured  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  state  unintelligible  to 
himself,  and  everybody  else.  Here  MARIA  had  done,  and  for 
near  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  I  sat  silently  looking  at  her, 
in  the  greatest  astonishment. 

But  as  to  our  travels,  the  loth  of  August  we  got  safe  to  London, 
and  the  consequence  of  the  journey  was,  that  the  last  day  of 
the  same  month,  I  had  the  honour  and  happiness  of  being 
married  to  this  young  lady. 

Wise  is  the  man,  who  prepares  both  for  his  own  death  and 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  357 

the  death  of  his  friends  ;  who  makes  use  of  the  foresight  of 
troubles,  so  as  to  abate  the  uneasiness  of  them,  and  puts  in 
practice  the  resolution  of  the 'philosopher  Cleanthes.*  "I  am 
thinking  with  myself  every  day,  says  one  of  the  philosophers, 
how  many  things  are  dear  to  me  ;  and  after  I  have  considered 
them  as  temporary  and  perishable,  I  prepare  myself,  from  that 
very  minute,  to  bear  the  loss  of  them  without  weakness."  I 
thought  of  this  the  morning  I  married  the  beautiful  and  in- 
genious Miss  SPENCE,  and  determined  if  I  lost  her,  to  make 
the  great  affliction  produce  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness. 
The  man  must  feel,  in  such  a  case  :  the  Christian  will  submit. 
Before  the  end  of  six  months,  she  died,  and  I  mourned  the  loss 
with  a  degree  of  sorrow  due  to  so  much  excellence,  endearment 
and  delight.  My  complaint  was  bitter,  in  proportion  to  the 
desires  of  nature.  But  as  nature  says,  "Let  this  cup  pass  :  " 
Grace  says,  "  Let  thy  will  be  done."  If  the  flower  of  all  my 
comfort  was  gone,  the  glory  departed  !  yet  thy  glory  is,  O  man, 
to  do  the  will  of  God,  and  bear  the  burthen  he  lays  upon  thee  ! 
Let  nature,  grace,  and  time,  do  their  part,  to  close  the  wound, 
and  let  not  ignorance  impeach  the  wisdom  of  the  Most  High. 
The  cup  which  my  Father  hath  given  me  :  shall  I  not  drink  ? 
I  will.  I  will  not  quarrel  with  Providence.  In  short,  I  re- 
signed, and  not  long  after  I  had  buried  this  admirable  woman, 
who  died  at  her  seat  in  Westmoreland,  I  went  into  the  world 
again,  to  relieve  my  mind,  and  try  my  fortune  once  more.  What 
happened  there,  I  will  report,  when  I  have  related  the  extra- 
ordinary case  of  my  wife  Miss  SPENCE,  and  the  four  physicians 
I  had  to  attend  her.  It  is  a  very  curious  thing. 

This  young  lady  was  seized  with  that  fatal  distemper,  called 
a  malignant  fever  :  Something  foreign  to  nature  got  into  her 
blood,  by  a  cold,  and  other  accidents,  it  may  be,  and  the  luctus 
or  strife  to  get  clear  thereof  became  very  great.  The  effer- 
vescence or  perturbation  was  very  soon  so  violent  as  to  shew, 
that  it  not  only  endangered,  but  would  quickly  subvert  the 

'  *  Cleanthes  was  a  native  of  Assus  in  Lysia,  in  Asia-Minor,  and  so  very  poor,  when  he  came 
to  Athens  to  study,  that,  for  his  support,  he  wrougb.  at  nights  in  drawing  water  for  the 
gardens,  and  in  grinding  behind  the  mill.  He  attended  the  lectures  of  Zeno,  succeeded  him 
in  his  school,  and  grew  into  very  high  esteem  with  the  Athenians.  He  lived  to  ninety-nine, 
but  the  year  he  died  we  know  not.  His  master  Zeno  died  342  years  before  Christ,  and  had 
conversed  with  Socrates  and  Plato. 

The  antient  academics  were  Plato,  the  disciple  of  Socrates ;  Speucippus,  Zenocrates, 
Polemo,  Crates,  and  Crantor ;  and  from  Crates,  the  fifth  academic,  sprung  the  old  stoics, 
to  wit,  Crates,  Zeno,  Cleanthes,  Chrysippus,  and  Diogenes  the  Babylonian ;  not  he  that  was 
surly  and  proud.  Cicero  in  his  works  often  mentions  this  Babylonian,  the  stoic.  We  find 
in  the  Roman  history,  that  he  was  living  in  the  year  of  Rome  599,  that  is,  155  years  before 
Christ ;  but  when  he  died  we  know  not.  These  gentlemen  of  the  two  old  schools  were  to  be 
sure  great  philosophers,  excellent  men ;  but  then,  to  be  strictly  impartial,  we  must  own, 
that  all  they  knew  in  relation  to  the  will  of  God,  and  a  kingdom  to  come,  was  but  poor  moral 
learning,  in  respect  to  what  is  written  in  the  New  Testament  for  our  Instruction,  if  we  will 
lay  aside  our  fancies  and  systems,  and  let  reason  explain  revelation.  The  Christian  religion 
is  really  more  for  the  glory  of  God,  atd  the  good  of  mankind,  than  reason,  without  inspiration, 
has  been  able  to  teach.  Christianity,  without  the  additions  and  supplements  of  monks, 
%  not  only  above  all  just  exception,  but  preferable  to  any  other  scheme. 


358  THE  LIFE  OF 


animal  fabric,  unless  the  blood  was  speedily  dispersed,  and 
nature  got  the  victory  by  an  exclusion  of  the  noxious  shut-in 
particles.  The  thirst,  the  dry  tongue,  the  coming  causus,  were 
terrible,  and  gave  me  too  much  reason  to  apprehend  this  charm- 
ing woman  would  sink  under  the  conflict.  To  save  her,  if  pos- 
sible, I  sent  immediately  for  a  great  physician,  Dr.  Sharp,  a 
man  who  talked  with  great  fluency  of  medicine  and  diseases. 

This  gentleman  told  me,  the  Alkaline  was  the  root  of  fevers, 
as  well  as  of  other  distempers,  and  therefore,  to  take  off  the 
effervescence  of  the  blood  in  the  ebullitions  of  it,  to  incide  the 
viscous  humour,  to  drain  the  tartarous  salts  from  the  kidnies, 
to  allay  the  preternatural  ferment,  and  to  brace  up  the  relaxed 
tones,  he  ordered  orange  and  vinegar  in  whey,  and  prescribed 
spirit  of  sulphur,  and  vitriol,  the  cream,  chrystals,  and  vitrio- 
late  tartar  in  other  vehicles.  If  anything  can  relieve,  it  must 
be  plenty  of  acid.  In  acidis  posita  est  omni  curatio.  But 
these  things  gave  no  relief  to  the  sufferer. 

I  sent  then  in  all  haste  for  Dr.  Hough,  a  man  of  great  reputa- 
tion, and  he  differed  so  much  in  opinion  from  Sharp,  that  he 
called  an  acid  the  chief  enemy.  It  keeps  up  the  luctus  or 
struggle,  and  if  not  expelled  very  quickly,  will  certainly  prove 
fatal.  Our  sheet  anchor  then  must  be  the  testacea,  in  vehicles 
of  mineral  water,  and  accordingly  he  ordered  the  absorbent 
powers  to  conflict  with  this  acidity,  the  principal  cause  of  all 
diseases.  Pearl  and  coral,  crab's  eyes,  and  crab's  claws,  he 
prescribed  in  diverse  forms  ;  but  they  were  of  no  use  to  the 
sick  woman.  She  became  worse  every  hour. 

Dr.  Pym  was  next  called  in,  a  great  practitioner,  and  learned 
man.  His  notion  of  a  fever  was  quite  different  from  the  opinions 
of  Sharp  and  Hough.  He  maintained  that  a  fever  was  a  poisonous 
ferment  or  venom,  which  seized  on  the  animal  spirits  :  it  breaks 
and  smites  them  ;  and  unless  by  alexipharmics  the  spirits  can 
be  enabled  to  gain  a  victory  in  a  day  or  two,  this  ferment  will 
bring  on  what  the  Greeks  call  a  synochus,  that  is,  a  continual 
fever.  In  that  state,  the  venom  holds  fast  the  animal  spirits, 
will  not  let  them  expand,  or  disengage  themselves,  and  then 
they  grow  enraged,  and  tumultuating,  are  hurried  into  a  state 
of  explosion,  and  blow  up  the  fabric.  Hence  the  inflammatory 
fever,  according  to  the  diverse  indoles  of  the  venom  ;  and  when 
the  contagious  miasms  arrive  at  their  highest  degree,  the  malig- 
nant fever  ariseth.  The  spirits  are  then  knocked  down,  and  the 
marks  of  the  enemies'  weapons,  the  spots,  &c.  appear.  This,  con- 
tinued the  Doctor,  is  the  case  of  your  lady,  and  therefore  the 
thing  to  be  done  is,  to  make  the  malignant  tack  about  to  the  mild 
and  produce  an  extinction  of  the  ferment,  and  relief  of  the  symp- 
toms. This  I  endeavour  to  do  by  alexipharmics  and  vesicatories, 
and  by  subduing  the  poison  by  the  bark  and  the  warmer  anti- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  359 

dotes.  Thus  did  my  Doctor  marshal  his  animal  spirits,  fight  them 
against  the  enemy  venom,  to  great  disadvantage.  If  his  talk 
was  not  romance,  it  was  plain  his  spirits  were  routed,  and  venom 
was  getting  the  day.  His  alexipharmics  and  warm  antidotes 
were  good  for  nothing.  The  malady  increased. 

This  being  the  case,  I  sent  again  in  haste  for  a  fourth  doctor, 
a  man  of  greater  learning  than  the  other  three,  and  therefore 
in  opinion,  opposite,  and  against  their  management  of  the  fever. 
This  great  man  was  Dr.  Frost.  He  was  a  mechanician,  and 
affirmed  that,  the  solid  parts  of  the  human  body  are  subjected 
to  the  rules  of  geometry,  and  the  fluids  to  the  hydrostatics  ; 
and  therefore,  to  keep  the  machine  in  right  order,  that  is,  in 
a  state  of  health,  an  aequilibrium  must  be  maintained,  or  restored, 
if  destroyed.  The  balance  must  not  turn  to  one  side  or  the 
other.  To  restore  sanity  in  acute  cases,  and  in  chronic  too, 
our  business  is  to  prevent  the  vessels  being  elevated  or  deprest 
beyond  the  standard  of  nature  :  when  either  happens,  the  division 
of  the  blood  is  increased,  the  motion  is  augmented,  and  so  beget 
a  fever.  There  cannot  be  an  inordinate  elevation  of  the  oily 
or  fiery  parts  of  the  blood,  till  the  vessels  vibrate  above  the 
standard  of  nature. 

In  a  slight  fever,  the  blood  increases  but  little  above  the 
balance  ;  but  if  more  than  one  day,  turns  to  a  synochus,  which 
is  but  the  same  fever  augmented  beyond  the  balance  of  nature. 
This  turns  to  a  putrid  synochus,  and  this  to  a  causus.  This  is 
the  case  of  your  lady.  From  an  elevated  contraction,  the 
Doctor  continued,  to  my  amazement,  her  blood  obtains  a  greater 
force  and  motion  ;  hence  greater  division,  hence  an  increase 
of  quantity  and  fluidity  :  and  thus  from  greater  division,  motion 
and  quantity  increased,  arises  that  heat  and  thirst,  with  the 
other  concomitant  symptoms  of  her  fever  ;  for  the  blood  dividing 
faster  than  it  can  be  detached  through  the  perspiratory  emunc- 
tories  of  the  skin,  is  the  immediate  cause  of  the  heart's  pre- 
ternatural beating  :  and  this  preternatural  division  of  the  blood 
arises  from  the  additional  quantity  of  obstructed  perspirable 
matter,  added  to  the  natural  quantity  of  the  blood. 

Things  being  so,  the  Doctor  went  on  ;  and  the  fever  rising 
by  the  blood's  dividing  faster  than  can  be  detached  by  the 
several  emunctories  ;  and  this  from  an  elevation  of  the  solids 
above  the  balance,  we  must  then  strive  to  take  off  the  tension 
of  the  solids,  and  subtract  the  cause.  This  makes  me  begin 
in  a  manner  quite  contrary  to  the  other  physicians,  and  I  doubt 
not  but  I  shall  soon  get  the  better  of  the  fury  and  orgasm,  make 
an  alteration  in  the  black  scabrous  tongue,  and  by  according 
with  the  modus  of  nature,  throw  forth  the  matter  of  the  disease. 
I  will  enable  nature  to  extricate  herself.  I  hope  to  disentangle 
her  from  the  weight. 


360  THEILIFE  OF 


Thus  did  this  very  learned  man  enlarge  ;  and  while  he  talked 
of  doing  wonders,  the  dry  and  parched  skin,  the  black  and  brushy 
tongue,  the  crusty  fur  upon  the  teeth,  and  all  the  signals  of  an 
incendium  within,  declared  her  dissolution  very  near.  As  the 
serum  diminished  fast,  and  the  intestine  motion  of  the  crassa- 
mentum  increased,  nature  was  brought  to  her  last  struggles. 
All  the  dismal  harbingers  of  a  general  wreck  appeared,  to  give 
the  bystanders  notice  of  approaching  death.  She  died  the 
ninth  day,  by  the  ignorance  of  four  learned  Physicians.  Had 
these  Gentlemen  considered  the  fever  no  otherwise  than  as  a 
disease  arising  from  some  unusual  ferment,  stirred  up  among 
the  humours  of  the  blood,  disturbing  both  those  natural  motions 
and  functions  of  the  body,  hindering  perspiration,  and  thereby 
giving  quick  and  large  accession  to  such  parts  of  the  aliment 
or  liquors  taken  down,  as  are  disposed  to  ferment  ;  and  there 
is  always  a  strong  disposition  that  way  ;  for  the  blood  has  a 
three-fold  motion,  fluidity,  common  to  all  liquors,  protrusive, 
from  the  impulse  of  the  heart  and  arteries,  and  fermentative, 
that  is,  a  motion  throughout  of  all  its  parts,  which  quality  is 
owing  to  the  dissimilar  parts  of  the  blood  ;  for  being  a  com- 
pound of  various  particles,  there  must  be  a  colluctation  when 
they  occur,  and  of  consequence,  a  continual  fermentation.  As 
this  is  just  and  moderate,  it  is  for  the  good  of  the  animal,  and 
purifies  the  blood  :  if  it  is  too  much,  it  tends  to  a  fever  ;  if  it 
still  increases,  it  produces  the  burning  causus.  Hard  is  the 
struggle  then,  and  if  nature  cannot  dispume,  even  helped  by 
art,  the  patient  has  no  hazard  for  life.  Hence  it  is,  that  we 
are  so  subject  to  fevers,  and  that  it  carries  away  more  people 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  diseases.  Out  of  every  forty-two  that 
have  it,  twenty-five  generally  die.  It  was  so  in  the  time  of 
Hippocrates,  430  years  before  Christ.  And  so  Dr.  Sydenham 
and  Dr.  Friend  found  it,  in  their  prac^'ce.  But  had  my  four 
Doctors  considered  the  fever  as  I  have  plainly  stated  it,  without 
vainly  pretending  to  be  so  wise  as  to  know  the  essential  causes 
of  it  •  and  in  the  beginning  of  it,  before  the  terrible  appearances, 
the  vigil,  delirium,  subsultus,  the  dry  black  tongue,  the  furred 
teeth,  and  the  pale,  unconcocted  urine,  had  caused  a  depletion 
by  large  bleeding,  had  opened  the  pores  by  a  mild  sudorific, 
had  then  given  a  vomit,  Rad.  Ipecacuanha  in  small  sack- whey 
or  chicken- water,  and  let  the  sufferer  indulge  in  that  thin  diluting 
liquor,  an  emulsion  of  the  seeds  and  almonds  in  barley  water, 
and  if  the  patient  required  it,  a  draught  of  table-beer  with  a 
toast,  .between  whiles  ;  had  this  been  done  very  soon,  there 
might  be  relief  as  quickly  ;  or  if  the  fever  still  run  high,  to  bleed 
again,  and  wash  down  some  proper  alexipharmic  powder  with 
a  proper  cordial  julap,  it  is  possible  nature  would  have  been 
able  to  accomplish  the  work,  and  health  had  been  again  restored, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


I  use  the  word  proper  alexipharmic,  and  proper  cordial  julap, 
because  the  Theriaca  and  Mithridatium  of  the  shops,  which 
are  commonly,  almost  always  ordered  as  an  alexipharmic  bole, 
are  rather  poisons  than  useful  in  a  fever  ;  and  because  the  tincture 
and  syrup  of  saffron,  the  treacle-  water,  or  any  other  distilled 
compound,  are  not  fit  cordials  in  the  case  ;  but  it  should  be  the 
conserva  lujulae  in  an  emulsion  ex  sem.  fr.  cum  amygd.  in  aq. 
hordei.  This  is  the  true  alexipharmic,  and  the  only  cordial, 
to  be  given  in  a  fever.  But  it  was  the  destructive  alexipharmics 
and  cordials  of  the  shops  they  forced  down  Maria's  throat,  and 
this,  with  the  other  bad  prescriptions  and  management,  killed 
one  of  the  finest  and  most  excellent  women  that  ever  lived. 

And  now  to  give  the  world  a  better  idea  of  this  admirable 
woman  than  any  description  of  mine  can  exhibit,  I  shall  here 
place  a  few  religious  little  Pieces,  which  she  wrote  while  Miss 
SPENCE,  and  which  I  found  among  her  papers. 

MORAL    THOUGHTS. 
Written  by  Miss  Spence. 

MORALITY. 

Abstract,  mathematical,  or  physical  truth,  may  be  above 
the  reach  of  the  bulk  and  community  of  mankind.  They  have 
neither  the  leisure,  nor  the  necessary  helps  and  advantages  to 
acquire  the  natural  knowledge  of  arts  and  sciences.  The  many 
calls  and  importunities  of  the  animal  kind,  take  up  the  greatest 
part  of  their  time,  thoughts,  and  labour,  so  that  the  more  abstract 
speculations,  and  experimental  disquisitions  of  philosophy,  are 
placed  by  Providence  quite  out  of  their  reach  and  beyond  their 
sphere  of  action. 

On  the  contrary,  moral  truth,  right  and  wrong,  good  and 
evil,  the  doing  as  we  would  be  done  by,  and  acting  towards  all 
men  as  they  really  are  and  stand  related  in  society  ;  these  things 
are  as  evident  to  the  understanding,  as  light  and  colours  are 
to  the  eye,  and  may  be  called  the  intellectual,  moral  sense.  Here 
needs  no  deep  learning,  or  trouble  and  expence  of  education, 
but  the  same  truths  are  as  evident,  and  as  much  seen  and  felt 
by  the  learned  and  unlearned,  the  gentleman  and  the  plough- 
man, the  savage  or  wild  Indian,  as  by  the  best  instructed  philo- 
sopher. The  divine  perfections  shine  through  all  nature,  and 
the  goodness  and  bounty  of  the  Creator  to  all  his  creatures, 
impress  the  obligation  of  imitating  this  wisest  and  best  of  Beings 
upon  every  man's  heart  and  conscience. 

But  notwithstanding  the  maxims  of  morality  are  thus  solidly 
established,  and  adapted  to  all  capacities  ;  and  though  every 
man  has  a  happiness  to  seek,  and  a  main  end  to  secure,  which 
must  be  infinitely  preferable  to  any  concerns  of  life,  yet  here  it 


363  THE  LIFE  OF 


is  we  find,  that  mankind  in  general  have  been  most  lost  and 
bewildered,  as  if  Providence  had  placed  their  own  happiness, 
and  the  way  to  it,  more  out  of  their  power  than  anything  else. 
How  this  should  happen,  might  seem  unaccountable  at  first 
sight,  and  yet  it  can  be  no  great  mystery  to  any  man  tolerably 
acquainted  with  the  world  and  human  nature.  It  is  no  difficult 
matter  to  discover  the  reasons  hereof,  and  it  is  withal  highly 
useful  to  give  them  their  due  consideration. 

1.  The  principal  cause  I  take  to  be  the  prevailing  strength 
and   bias    of    private,    corrupt,    animal    affection,    and    desires. 
Reason  is  silenced  and  borne  down  by  brutal  appetite  and  pas- 
sion.    They  resolve  to  gratify  their  sensual  appetites  and  desires, 
and  will  therefore  never  taste  or  try  the  superior  pleasures  and 
enjoyments  of  reason  and  virtue.     But  such  men  as  these  having 
declared   open   war   against  their   own  reason  and   conscience, 
and  being  resolved  at  all  risks  to  maintain  the  combat,  must  be 
self-condemned,  and  cannot  plead  ignorance,  or  error  of  judg- 
ment in  the  case. 

2.  Another  fundamental  cause  of  moral  error,  is  the  prejudice 
and  prepossession  of  a  wrong  education.     False  principles  and 
absurd   notions   of   God   and   religion,   wrought   early   into   the 
tender,  unexperienced  mind,  and  there  radicated  and  coniirmed 
from  time  to  time,  from  youth  to  riper  age,  by  parents,  teachers, 
our  most  intimate  friends  and  acquaintance,   and  such  as  we 
have  the  best  opinion  of,  and  confide  most  in  ;  such  causes  make 
such  strong  impressions,  that  the   grossest  errors,  thus   riveted 
and  fixed,   are  with  the  greatest  difficulty  ever  conquered   or 
cleared  off.     In    this  case,   men  turn    out  well-grounded    be- 
lievers,   and    are   well-armed   against   conviction.     Circumcision 
or  baptism  fixes  their  religion  in  their  infancy,  and  their  church 
is  as  natural  to  them  as  their  country.     Free  enquiry  is  with 
them  an  apostasy  from  the  orthodox  party,  and  as  the  great 
and  sure  trial  of  their  faith  and  fortitude,  they  will  hear  no 
reasonings  about  the  holy  religion  they  have  taken  upon  trust. 

3.  Then  the  few,  who  have  applied  themselves  to  the  study 
of  morality,  have  done  it  for  the  most  part  in  a  manner  con- 
fused ;  and  superficial  enough  :  and  often  so,  as  even  to  build 
upon  principles  either  entirely  false,  or  obscure  and  uncertain  ; 
either  foreign  to  its  proper  business,  or  mixt  up  with  gross  errors, 
and  absurdities.     Prom  whence  it  comes  to  pass,   that  in  all 
languages,  the  terms  of  morality,  both  in  common  discourse, 
and  in  the  writings  of  the  learned,  are  such  as  have  the  most 
obscure,    confused,    indetermined,    and    unfixed    ideas,    of    any 
other  terms  whatever  ;   men  for  the  most  part  despising  the 
things  which  are  plain  and  ordinary,  to  run  after  such  as  are 
extraordinary  and  mysterious  ;  and  that  they  either  will  not 
know,  or  reject  even  truth  itself,  unless  she  brings  some  charm 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  363 

with  her,  to  raise  their  curiosity,  and  gratify  their  passion  for 
what  is  marvellous  and  uncommon. 

In  sum,  the  prejudices  of  the  understanding,  the  illusions 
of  the  heart,  and  the  tyranny  established  in  the  world,  with 
relation  to  opinions,  form  a  grand  obstacle  to  the  serious  study 
of  morality ;  and  to  the  attainment  of  a  more  exact  knowledge 
of  our  duty.  Nor  is  it  to  be  expected  that  any  will  very  much 
apply  themselves  to  make  discoveries  in  these  matters,  whilst 
the  desire  of  esteem,  riches,  or  power,  makes  men  espouse  the 
well- endowed  opinions  in  fashion,  and  then  seek  arguments 
either  to  make  good  their  beauty,  or  varnish  over  and  cover 
their  deformity.  Whilst  the  parties  of  men,  cram  their  tenets 
down  all  men's  throats,  whom  they  can  get  into  their  power, 
without  permitting  them  to  examine  their  truth  and  falsehood  ; 
and  will  not  let  truth  have  fair  play  in  the  world,  nor  men  the 
liberty  to  search  after  it ;  what  improvements  can  be  expected 
of  this  kind  ?  What  greater  light  can  be  hoped  for  in  the  moral 
sciences  ?  The  subject  part  of  mankind  in  most  places  might, 
instead  thereof,  with  Egyptian  bondage,  expect  Egyptian  dark- 
ness, were  not  the  candle  of  the  Lord  set  up  by  himself  in  men's 
minds,  which  it  is  impossible  for  the  breath  of  man  wholly  to 
extinguish  ;  how  much  soever  the  infallible  guides  of  one  church, 
and  the  orthodox  rulers  of  another,  may  scheme  and  labour 
to  subject  conscience  to  human  jurisdiction,  and  bring  the 
inward  principle  and  motive  of  action  within  the  cognizance 
of  their  political  theocracy,  or  theocratic  policy. 

After  all  this,  is  it  to  be  wondered  at,  that  such,  whose  occupa- 
tions and  distractions  of  life,  or  want  of  genius  and  outward  helps, 
do  not  allow  them  to  engage  in  long  and  profound  meditations, 
are  found  to  have  generally  understandings  so  short  and  narrow, 
and  ideas  so  false  or  confused,  in  matters  of  morality  ? 

And  since  this  is  the  case  of  the  greatest  part  of  mankind, 
it  has  no  doubt  been  always  God's  will,  that  they,  who  had  the 
greatest  light,  and  whom  his  providence  had  furnished  with 
the  greatest  helps,  should  communicate  their  knowledge  to 
such  as  were  not  able  of  themselves  to  acquire  it  so  easily,  or 
in  so  great  a  degree. 

RELIGION. 

What  is  religion  ?  The  true,  eternal,  immutable  religion  of 
God  and  nature,  consists,  as  I  opine,  in  the  filial  love  and  fear 
of  God,  and  the  brotherly  love  of  mankind  ;  in  the  practice  of 
all  those  moral  duties  of  truth  and  righteousness,  which  result 
from  it,  under  a  fiducial  trust  in,  and  dependance  on  God,  and 
the  constant  sense  of  his  power  and  presence  in  all  our  actions, 
a.s  the  rewarder  of  good  and  punisher  of  bad  men.  This  is  the 


364  THE  LIFE  OF 


religion  founded  in  nature  and  reason,  and  which  must  be  at 
all  times  and  everywhere  the  same.  As  this  religion  was  in 
a  great  measure  lost,  and  neglected,  amidst  the  general  ignor- 
ance, superstition,  and  idolatry  of  the  world,  it  was  the  great 
business  and  design  of  revelation  to  restore  it,  and  set  moral 
truth  and  reason  in  its  original  light,  by  bringing  mankind  to 
the  right  use  of  their  reason  and  understanding  in  such  matters. 

After  Epicurus  and  Zeno,  there  were  no  new  succeeding 
schemes  of  morality,  but  each  man  betook  himself  to  that  sect, 
where  he  found  what  most  suited  his  own  sentiments. 

In  the  reign  of  Augustus,  Potamo  of  Alexandria  introduced 
a  manner  of  philosophising,  which  was  called  the  Eclectic, 
because  it  consisted  in  collecting  from  all  the  tenets  of  pre- 
ceding philosophers,  such  as  appeared  most  reasonable  ;  out 
of  which  they  formed  each  man  his  own  system  of  philosophy. 
It  appears  from  Cicero's  works  that  he  was  an  Eclectic. 

And  why  should  it  not  be  good  in  religion,  as  well  as  in  philo- 
sophy ?  I  own  I  am  an  Eclectic  in  divinis.  And  the  sum  of 
my  religion  is,  without  regard  to  modes  or  parties,  so  to  live 
to  the  glory  of  the  Father,  without  attachment  to  the  creature, 
for  the  sanctification  and  happiness  of  mankind  ;  that  when 
this  fleeting  scene  of  sin  and  sorrow  shall  vanish,  and  pass  away 
from  sight,  the  angels  of  God  may  give  my  soul  a  safe  tran- 
sition to  that  heavenly  happiness,  which  no  thought  can  lay 
hold  on,  and  which  no  art  can  describe. 

The  practice  of  reason  and  truth  is  the  rule  of  action  to  God 
himself,  and  the  foundation  of  all  true  religion.  It  is  the  first 
and  highest  obligation  of  all  rational  beings,  and  our  divine 
Lord  came  down  from  heaven  to  earth  to  teach  it  to  mankind. 
Christ  preached  a  plain  doctrine  to  men,  fitted  to  reform  their 
hearts  and  lives,  intended  to  make  them  perfect  in  self-denial, 
humility,  love,  goodness,  and  innocence  ;  and  to  enable  them, 
with  hearts  raised  above  the  world,  to  worship  the  Father  in 
spirit  and  in  truth. 

But  this  glorious  religion  the  Romish  priests  have  perverted 
into  a  system  of  mysteries,  and  staring  contradictions,  the 
better  to  support  the  worst  and  most  deplorable  purposes  of 
temporal  wealth,  power,  pride,  malice,  and  cruelty.  In  direct 
opposition  to  reason  and  common  sense,  we  must  commence 
generous  believers  in  an  ecclesiastical  Christianity,  and  confess 
the  symbol  of  their  holy  Athanasius,  though  it  be  no  more, 
or  better,  than  the  effects  of  a  luxuriant  fancy,  without  like- 
ness and  correspondency,  in  the  real  nature  and  reason  of  things  ; 
17,  4,  and  19  are  41,  says  convocation  to  his  believers,  and  your 
religion,  my  brethren,  is  all  a  tremendous  mystery  :  You  must 
adore  as  such,  what  the  Infidels  renounce  as  a  contradiction. 

Thus  shamefully  do  these  priests  sink  the  credibility  of  our 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  365 

gospel,  and  impose  upon  the  silly  people,  a  ball  of  wax  for  the 
religion  of  Jesus  ;  making  them  believe  contrary  to  knowledge, 
and  prefer  a  system  that  is  a  lye  against  the  light  of  nature, 
and  the  gospel. 

But  the  chief  end,  duty,  happiness,  and  highest  perfection 
that  man  can  arrive  at,  consists,  and  is  found,  in  a  perfect  exer- 
cise of  human  reason. 

We  read  in  Chronicles,  that  Hezekiah  began  his  good  reign 
with  the  revival  of  religion,  which  had  long  suffered  by  the 
neglect  and  profanation,  or  through  the  neglect  and  omission 
of  his  predecessors.  To  this  purpose  he  opened  the  doors  of 
the  house  of  the  Lord,  and  issued  a  decree,  that  all  Israel  should 
come  to  keep  the  passover,  which  they  had  not  done  of  a  long 
time.  But  as  the  legal  cleansing  and  purifying,  could  not  be 
performed  by  great  numbers  that  did  eat  the  passover,  by  the 
appointed  time,  on  account  of  many  things,  and  particularly 
the  force  of  long  interval  and  disuse  ;  therefore  this  irregularity 
employed  the  devotion  of  the  good  king,  as  the  canon  of  the 
passover,  under  the  strictest  prohibition,  and  the  severest 
penalty,  forbid  any  one  to  eat,  that  did  not  come  with  outward 
and  legal  purity.  No  unclean  person  shall  eat  of  it  :  and  he 
prayed  for  the  people,  saying,  The  good  Lord  pardon  every 
one  that  prepareth  his  heart  to  seek  God,  the  Lord  God  of  their 
fathers,  though  he  be  not  cleansed  according  to  the  purification 
of  the  sanctuary ;  and  the  Lord  hearkened  unto  Hezekiah, 
says  the  next  verse,  and  healed  the  people,  that  is,  took  off  the 
penalties  of  the  canon,  and  gave  them  the  benefit  ef  the  rite. 
From  hence  it  follows,  that,  however  defective  we  may  be  in 
outward  rites  and  ceremonies  of  a  church,  yet  inward  truth  and 
purity  will  be  accepted  in  default  of  outward  tilings.  Inward 
disposition  is  the  substance  of  religion,  and  may  compound 
for  the  want  of  outward  matters  ;  but  outward  service  can 
never  be  accepted  instead  of  inward  purification. 

And  it  farther  follows,  if  the  cutward  solemnities  of  religion 
cannot  be  obtained  upon  lawful  terms,  which  is  the  case  of 
many,  in  respect  of  Popery  and  Athanasian  worship ;  then 
will  the  good  Lord  pardon  and  be  propitious  to  those  who  pre- 
pare their  heart  to  seek  him,  though  they  be  not  cleansed  accord- 
ing to  the  solemn  institution,  and  ritual  purification. 

This  text  is  in  the  vulgar  Latin,  Dominus  bonus  propitiabitur 
cunctis  qui  in  toto  corde  requirunt  Dominum,  Deum  patrum 
suorum,  et  non  imputabit  eis  quod  minus  sanctificati  sunt. 
The  good  Lord  will  be  propitious  to  all  those,  who  in  their  whole 
heart  seek  the  Lord  God  of  their  Fathers,  and  will  not  impute 
to  them  their  being  less  sanctified  than  they  ought. 

*  Histories  in  all  ages  are  full  of  the  encroachments  of  the 

*  Note.  This  article  relating  to  the  encroachments  of  the  clergy,  was  not  found  among 
Miss  Spence's  papers,  but  is  inserted  here  as  in  a  proper  place. 


366  THE  LIFE  OF 


clergy,  yet  they  all  omit  one  of  the  most  successful  stratagems 
to  ingross  money.  We  are  indebted  to  our  statute-book  for 
informing  us  of  one  of  the  most  notorious  pieces  of  priestcraft 
that  ever  was  practised.  Would  one  believe,  that  there  is  a 
country,  and  in  Europe  too,  where  the  clergy  gained  such  an 
ascendant  over  the  minds  of  the  people,  as  tamely  to  surfer 
the  moveable  estate  of  every  man  who  died  intestate,  to  be 
swallowed  up  by  them  ;  yet  so  prevalent  was  superstition  in  our 
country,  that  it  produced  a  law  preferring  the  Bishop  to  the 
next  of  kin  ;  and  in  its  extension  excluding  the  children,  the 
wife,  and  the  relations  of  the  deceased,  nay  the  creditor  ;  and 
giving  all  to  the  Bishop  per  aversionem.  Such  was  the  shameful 
rapacity  of  the  clergy  here  for  ages.  Such  a  monstrous  prac- 
tice was  established  upon  this  foundation,  that  the  moveable 
effects  of  every  deceased  person,  his  own  appointment  failing, 
ought  to  be  laid  out  for  promoting  the  good  of  his  soul ;  and 
so  the  Ordinary  took  possession,  without  deigning  to  account 
with  any  mortal.  This  began  temp.  Hen.  I.  when  the  Ordinary, 
for  the  good  of  the  soul  of  the  deceased,  obtained  a  directing 
power,  and  was  in  the  nature  of  an  overseer,  and  somewhat 
more.  In  the  time  of  King  John,  [the  Ordinary  drew  blood, 
as  Bacon  well  expresses  it  *  ;  for  though  the  possession  was  as 
formerly,  yet  the  dividend  must  be  in  the  view  of  the  church, 
and  by  which  means,  the  dividers  were  but  mere  instruments, 
and  the  right  was  vanished  into  the  clouds.  But  temp.  Hen.  III. 
it  was  settled,  the  Ordinary  had  not  only  gotten  the  game,  but 
gorged  it.  Both  right  and  possession  were  now  become  the 
clergy's,  the  Ordinary  was  to  distribute  it  according  to  pious 
uses,  and  no  use  seemed  so  pious  as  to  appoint  to  himself  and 
his  brethren. 

The  first  statute  that  limited  the  power  of  the  Ordinary  was 
13  Edw.  I.  c.  19.  By  this  the  Ordinary  was  obliged  to  satisfy  the 
intestate's  debts  so  far  as  the  goods  extended.  And  31  Edw.  III. 
cap.  2,  the  actual  possession  was  taken  from  the  Ordinary,  by 
obliging  him  to  give  a  deputation  to  the  next  and  most  lawful 
friends  of  the  intestate,  for  administrating  his  goods.  But  this 
statute  proved  but  a  weak  check  to  the  avarice  of  the  clergy. 
Means  were  fallen  upon  to  elude  it,  by  preferring  such  of  the  in- 
testate's relations,  who  were  willing  to  offer  the  best  terms  :  this 
corrupt  practice  was  suffered  in  the  days  of  Hen.  VIII.,  when  the 
clergy  losing  ground,  the  statute  21  Hen.  VIII.  was  enacted,  bear- 
ing "  That  in  case  any  person  die  intestate,  or  the  executors  refuse 
to  prove  the  testament,  the  Ordinary  shall  grant  administration 
to  the  widow,  or  to  the  next  of  kin,  or  to  both,  taking  surety  for 
true  administration." 

This  statute,  as  it  points  out  the  particular  persons  who  are  in- 

*  Discourse  of  Laws,  pp.  i,  66,  and  New  Abridgment  of  the  Law,  p.  398. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


titled  to  letters  of  administration,  without  leaving  any  choice  to 
the  Ordinary,  was  certainly  intended  to  cut  him  out  of  all  hope  of 
making  gain  of  the  effects  of  persons  dying  intestate.  But  the 
church  does  not  easily  quit  its  hold.  Means  were  fallen  upon  to 
elude  this  law  also.  Though  the  possession  given  by  this  statute 
was  wrested  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Ordinary,  yet  his  pretentious 
subsisted  intire,  of  calling  the  administrator  to  account,  and  oblig- 
ing him  or  her  to  distribute  the  effects  to  pious  uses.  This  was  an 
admirable  engine  in  the  hands  of  a  churchman  for  squeezing 
money.  An  administrator  who  gave  any  considerable  share  to 
the  Bishop,  to  be  laid  out  by  him,  without  doubt,  in  pious  uses, 
would  not  find  much  difficulty  in  making  his  accompt.  This  rank 
abuse  moved  the  judges  solemnly  to  resolve,  that  the  Ordinary, 
after  administration  granted  by  him,  cannot  compel  the  adminis- 
trator to  make  distribution.*  And  at  last,  the  right  of  the  next 
of  kin  was  fully  established  by  statute  22  and  23  Car.  II.  cap.  10. 
This  cut  out  the  Ordinary  entirely. 

If  I  thought  the  Athanasian  creed  was  a  part  of  the  religion  of 
Jesus,  I  should  be  induced  to  entertain  a  hard  thought  of  Christi- 
anity. I  should  think  it  enjoined  a  slavish  submission  to  the  dic- 
tates of  designing  men  :  and  instead  of  a  reasonable  service, 
required  us  to  renounce  our  understandings,  to  apostatize  from 
humanity,  and  degenerate  into  brutes,  by  giving  up  our  reason, 
which  alone  distinguishes  us  from  them.  Most  unjust  charge 
upon  our  holy  religion  !  A  religion,  which  enlarges  our  rational 
faculties,  filling  the  mind  with  an  astonishing  idea  of  an  eternal 
duration,  and  thereby  giving  us  a  contempt  of  the  mean,  transient 
pleasures  of  this  life,  and  which  we  and  the  brutes  enjoy  in  com- 
mon :  a  religion  that  requires  only  the  highest  degree  of  reverence 
towards  the  MOST  HIGH,  the  most  refined  purity  of  heart  and  mind, 
and  the  most  noble  and  diffusive  charity  towards  all  mankind.  In 
short,  that  establishes  righteousness  upon  earth,  and  intire  obedi- 
ence to  the  will  of  God  ;  that  so  having  put  the  oil  into  our  lamp, 
according  to  the  gospel  parable,  it  may  not  only  measure  the  course 
of  time,  but  light  us  beyond  it,  to  the  coming  of  the  bridegroom, 
and  the  morning  of  eternity. 

But  this  will  not  do  for  the  Doctors,  they  must  have  established 
Credenda  for  judgments  of  all  sizes,  they  must  have  a  formulary 
of  dogmatic  theology,  an  Athanasian  Jumble,  to  support  the  Holy 
Church  ;  though  their  creed  burlesques  mathematical  certainty, 
and  renders  their  ecclesiastical  Christianity  inferior  to  the  antient 
pagan  religion.  A  trinity  is  the  ecclesiastical  God  ;  but  whether 
three  distinct  conscious  beings  of  co-ordinate  power,  equal  inde- 
pendency, and  unorigination,  and  so  three  proper  Deities  ;  or, 
only  three  symbols  of  natural  powers.  In  this  the  Doctors  are  not 
agreed  ;  but  the  majority  are  for  the  three  proper  Deities  :  this 

*  New  Abridgment  of  the  Law,  p.  398. 


368  THE  LIFE  OF 


heresy  of  three  Gods  we  must  subscribe  to,  or  the  priests  will  num- 
ber us  with  the  infidels,  and  do  us  all  the  mischief  they  can.  Hence 
it  comes  to  pass,  that  humanity,  sweetness  of  temper,  and  mo- 
deration, are  banished  from  society";  religion,  like  a  cloak,  is  made 
use  of  to  authorise  hatred,  violence,  and  injustice  ;  and  the 
Christian  religion,  as  the  priests  have  forged  it,  and  shew  it  off, 
that  is,  upon  its  present  footing,  as  an  establishment,  is  pernicious 
to  mankind,  and  ought  to  go,  that  the  people  may  be  restored 
again  to  Christ's  religion,  and  be  led  to  attend  to  the  command  of 
God  ;  which  is  to  believe  in  the  name  of  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  and 
to  love  one  another. 

FAITH. 

"  Faith  is  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of 
things  not  seen  ;  "  Hebrews,  ch.  xi.  v.  i,  that  is,  faith  is  such  a  firm 
persuasion  as  gives,  as  it  were,  a  substance  or  present  existence  to 
the  good  things  which  we  hope  for,  and  which  are  not  yet  in  being, 
and  as  engages  us  to  depend  upon  the  truth  of  unseen  things,  as 
really,  as  upon  ocular  demonstration. 

"  He  endured,  as  seeing  him  who  is  invisible  ;  "  ver.  27,  that  is, 
Moses,  as  really  believed  the  being  and  attributes  of  the  invisible 
God,  as  if  he  had  seen  him  with  his  eyes  ;  and  fully  depended  upon 
his  conduct  and  assistance. 

The  better  thing  provided  for  Christians. 

"  And  these  all  having  obtained  a  good  report  through  faith, 
received  not  the  promise,  God  having  provided  some  better  thing 
for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be  made  perfect ;  Hebrews, 
ch.  xi.  v.  39,  40,  that  is,  Though  the  upright  under  the  law  have  a 
good  character  in  Scripture,  and  of  consequence  were  accepted  of 
God  upon  the  account  of  their  faith  in  the  divine  power  and  good- 
ness, yet  they  received  not  the  promised  reward  of  another  life, 
immediately  on  their  leaving  this  world  :  God  provided  this  better 
thing  for  us  Christians,  that  we  should  be  made  happy  immedi- 
ately, as  soon  as  we  leave  this  world,  that  so  they  might  not  be 
made  happy  in  heaven,  till  Christianity  commenced,  and  Christians 
should  be  there  received  to  happiness  with  them. 

Note  i .  It  is  plain  from  what  the  Apostle  says  before,  that  the 
thing  promised  is  the  better  and  more  enduring  substance  in  heaven. 

2.  The  better  thing  provided  for  Christians,  cannot  be  the  re- 
surrection from  the  dead,  and  the  being,  after  that,  received  into 
the  heavenly  Jerusalem ;  since  herein  we  shall  have  nothing  better 
than  the  good  people  who  lived  under  the  law  :  therefore  better 
things  can  only  mean  our  enjoyment  of  God  immediately  upon 
our  leaving  this  world. 

It  is  strange  then  that  Bishop  Fell  and  Whitby  say,  the  better 
thing  means  the  Messias,  or  the  heavenly  country  to  be  fully  pos- 
sessed at  the  end  of  the  world. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  3^9 

Of  the  same  opinion  is  Pyle.  He  says,  our  pious  ancestors  under 
the  law,  though  in  a  state  of  rest  and  happiness,  after  death,  yet 
received  not  the  full  and  complete  enjoyment  of  celestial  glory, 
that  being  deferred  till  the  last  and  great  dispensation  of  the  Mes- 
siah be  past,  that  so  they  and  sincere  Christians,  may  be  all  re- 
warded and  crowned  together,  with  the  happiness  both  of  body 
and  soul,  at  the  final  day  of  judgment :  but  if  so,  tell  me,  Mr.  Pyle, 
where  is  the  better  thing  provided  for  us  Christians  ? 

3.  Besides,  if  the  Apostle  may  be  his  own  interpreter,  the  word 
perfect  means  the  intermediate  state  of  good  souls  in  paradise 
and  not  the  complete  state  after  the  resurrection.  In  the  next 
chapter,  he  speaks  of  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect,  by  which 
he  means  undoubtedly  the  separate  souls  now  in  glory. 

In  a  word,  the  design  of  the  Apostle  was  to  prove  that,  since 
God  has  provided  some  better  thing  for  us,  we  appear  to  be  more 
in  his  favour  ;  and  therefore  the  argument  from  their  being  justi- 
fied to  our  being  justified  by  faith,  is  stronger,  that  is,  such  a  faith 
as  has  an  operative  influence,  by  rendering  our  lives  a  comment 
upon  the  blessed  nature  of  God. 

And  that  this  was  the  meaning  of  the  Apostle  in  the  something 
better  provided  for  us  Christians,  appears  yet  plainer  from  the 
consequence  drawn  by  the  inspired  writer,  to  wit,  that  we  ought 
with  the  greater  patience  and  courage  to  endure  persecution,  since 
God  has  provided  something  better  for  us  than  for  them.  If  the 
antient  believers  held  out,  who  expected  but  a  state  of  sleep,  till 
the  time  of  the  general  resurrection  :  much  more  should  we  pa- 
tiently suffer  affliction,  and  even  death  itself,  for  the  sake  of  truth, 
and  of  the  gospel,  when  we  know,  that  God  has  promised  us  some- 
thing better  ;  to  wit,  that  we  shall  be  conducted  to  paradise  im- 
mediately after  death,  and  be  there  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect, and  be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better  than  either  to  sleep 
after  death,  or  to  live  longer  in  this  world. 

Let  us  lay  aside  then  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  so 
easily  beset  us,  and  let  us  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  be- 
fore us.  Let  us  put  away  every  thing  from  us,  that  would  hinder 
us  from  improving  in  virtue  and  goodness  ;  looking  to  and  imi- 
tating Jesus,  the  leader  and  captain  of  the  faithful,  and  an  ex- 
ample of  spotless  virtue  and  perfect  obedience.  The  love  of  the 
world  is  enmity  with  God,  and  to  place  our  affections  here,  is  to 
vilify  that  better  provision  which  he  has  made  for  us.  We  are 
but  strangers  and  pilgrims  here.  The  human  state  is  but  a  pas- 
sage, not  a  place  of  abode.  It  is  a  station  of  exercise  and  disci- 
pline, and  was  not  designed  for  the  place  of  enjoyment.  That 
happy  country  is  before  us. 

AVOIDINGS. 
Avoid  all  indirect  arts  in  the  pursuit  of  a  fortune.     All  unlawful 


370  THE  LIFE  OF 


methods  of  self-preservation.     And  every  gratification  that  mili- 
tates with  reason  and  benevolence. 

The  Offices  of  a  Christian. 

These  are  heavenly-mindedness,  and  contempt  of  the  world, 
and  chusing  rather  to  die  than  commit  a  moral  evil.  Such  things, 
however,  are  not  much  esteemed  by  the  generality  of  Christians  : 
Most  people  laugh  at  them,  and  look  upon  them  as  indiscretions  ; 
therefore  there  is  but  little  true  Christianity  in  the  world.  It  has 
never  been  my  luck  to  meet  with  many  people  that  had  these  three 
necessary  qualifications.  And  as  for  the  people,  exclusive  of  their 
going  to  church  to  make  a  character,  or  to  ogle  one  another,  or  out 
of  superstition  to  perform  so  much  opus  operatum,  a  job  of  lip  ser- 
vice, which  they  idly  fancy  to  be  religion,  they,  I  mean  the  great 
and  the  small,  might  as  well  be  Heathens  as  Christians,  for  any 
real  Christian  purpose  they  answer,  in  a  strict  adherence  to  the 
three  offices  aforementioned.  The  name  of  Christian  sounds  over 
Europe,  and  large  parts  of  Asia,  Africa,  and  America  :  but  if  a 
Christian  is  what  St.  Paul  defines  it,  to  wit,  a  man  that  is  heavenly- 
minded,  that  contemns  the  world,  and  would  die  rather  than 
commit  a  moral  evil,  then  is  the  number  of  Christians  very  small 
indeed. 

The  meaning  of  John,  ch.   vi.  v.  44.     "  No  man  can  come  to  me, 
except  the  Father  draw  him." 

That  is,  no  one  can  be  a  Christian,  unless  his  regard  for  the  Deity 
and  natural  religion  inclines  him  to  receive  a  more  improved 
scheme  of  religion. 

But  Dr.  Young,  in  one  of  his  sermons,  explains  this  text  in  the 
following  manner.  No  one  can  live  up  to  the  religion  of  Jesus, 
and  reach  Christian  perfection,  unless  the  Father  enlightens  and 
enables  him,  by  the  operative  influence  of  his  holy  spirit.  We  can 
do  nothing,  in  respect  of  what  ought  to  be  done,  to  be  more  than 
nominal  Christians,  without  the  inward  principle  of  sanctification. 
This  I  think  is  mere  methodism.  The  excellent  Dr.  Lardner  ex- 
pounds the  text  in  the  following  words  :  "  No  man  will  come  to 
me,  and  receive  my  pure,  sublime,  and  spiritual  doctrine,  unless 
he  have  first  gained  some  just  apprehensions  concerning  the  gen- 
eral principles  of  religion.  And  if  a  man  have  some  good  notions 
of  God,  and  his  perfections,  and  his  will  as  already  revealed,  he 
will  come  unto  me.  If  any  man  is  well  disposed,  if  he  has  a  love 
of  truth,  and  a  desire  to  advance  in  virtue,  and  religious  know- 
ledge ;  he  will  readily  hearken  to  me,  and  believe  in  me."  Ser- 
mons, vol.  i.  p.  303. 

Of  Baptism,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  baptizing  them  into  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ? 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  37 1 

It  signifies  receiving  men  by  baptism  to  the  profession  and  pri- 
vileges of  that  religion,  which  was  taught  by  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Spirit,  that  is,  which  the  Father  taught  by  the  Son,  in  his  lifetime, 
and  by  the  Spirit,  after  his  ascension. 

Or,  to  be  baptized,  is  solemnly  to  profess  our  resolution  to  ad- 
here to  that  holy  doctrine,  which  is  the  mind  and  will  of  God  the 
Father,  published  to  the  world  by  his  Son,  whom  he  sent  from 
heaven  for  that  purpose,  and  confirmed  by  the  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost. 

Note,  An  able  writer,  St.  Hillary  de  Trinitate,  lib.  2.  ad  calcem 
on  Matt.  ch.  xxviii.  v.  19,  says  that  baptising  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  signifies,  In  con- 
fession of  the  author  of  all  things,  and  of  the  only  begotten,  and 
of  the  gift. 

Of  Christian  Idolatry. 

What  a  surprising  incident  is  idolatry  in  the  church  of  Christ  ! 
that  after  the  religion  of  Jesus  had  accomplished  its  glorious  de- 
sign, and  subverted  idolatry  and  superstition  throughout  the 
world,  it  should  itself  be  wounded  almost  to  death,  by  the  enemy 
it  had  subdued  !  This  is  the  case  all  over  the  realms  of  popery. 
And  can  they  be  said  to  have  any  true  religion  among  them,  where 
the  theology  of  Athanasius  prevails  ? 

Churchism  and  Creeds. 

I  have  no  very  good  opinion  of  creeds.  Jesus  Christ  came  with 
a'legatarian  power  from  God,  the  Supreme  Being,  to  declare  his 
will  to  mankind  ;  and  the  great  work  to  be  done,  so  far  as  I  can 
find  in  the  gospel,  is,  the  perfecting  our  minds  in  all  that  is  truly 
excellent ;  by  labouring  to  excel  in  all  the  virtues  of  the  gospel, 
by  loving  the  whole  race  of  mankind  with  an  universal  charity, 
and  striving  to  add  to  the  satisfaction  and  happiness  of  all  about 
us,  and  with  whom  we  have  any  connection. 

Having  lost  MARIA,  I  went  up  to  London,  and  on  my  way  to  the 
metropolis,  dined  at  a  pleasant  village,  not  far  from  Nottingham, 
where  I  saw  two  gentlemen  well  worth  mentioning.  They  were 
sitting  in  a  room  the  waiter  shewed  me  into,  and  had  each  of  them 
a  porringer  of  mutton  broth.  One  of  them  seemed  a  little  con- 
sumptive creature,  about  four  feet  six  inches  high,  uncommonly 
thin,  or  rather  exsiccated  to  a  cuticle.  His  broth  and  bread  how- 
ever he  supped  up  with  some  relish.  He  seemed  to  be  past  three- 
score. His  name  was  RIBBLE. 

The  other  was  a  young  man,  once  very  handsome,  tall  and 
strong,  but  so  consumed  and  weak,  that  he  could  hardly  speak  or 
stir.  His  name  was  RICHMOND.  He  attempted  to  get  down  his 
broth,  but  not  above  a  spoonful  or  two  could  he  swallow.  He  ap- 
peared to  me  to  be  a  dying  man. 

While  I  beheld  things  with  astonishment,  the  servant  brought 


373  THE  LIFE  OF 


in  dinner,  a  pound  of  rump  steaks,  and  a  quart  of  green  peas  ;  two 
cuts  of  bread,  a  tankard  of  strong  beer,  and  pint  of  port  wine  : 
with  a  fine  appetite,  I  soon  dispatched  my  mess,  and  over  my  wine, 
to  help  digestion,  began  to  sing  the  following  : 

Tell  me,  I  charge  you,  O  ye  sylvan  swains, 
Who  range  the  mazy  grove,  or  flow'ry  plains, 
Beside  what  fountain,  in  what  breezy  bower, 
Reclines  my  charmer  in  the  noon-tide  hour  ? 

Soft,  I  adjure  you,  by  the  skipping  fawns, 
By  the  fleet  roes,  that  bound  along  the  lawns  ; 
Soft  tread,  ye  virgin  daughters  of  the  grove, 
Nor  with  your  dances  wake  my  sleeping  love. 

Come,  Rosalind,  O  come,  and  infant  flow'rs 
Shall  bloom  and  smile,  and  form  their  charms  by  yours  ; 
By  you  the  lily  shall  her  white  compose, 
Your  blush  shall  add  new  blushes  to  the  rose. 

Hark  !  from  yon  bow'rs  what  airs  soft  warbled  play  ! 
My  soul  takes  wing  to  meet  th'  inchanting  lay. 
Silence,  ye  nightingales  !  attend  the  voice  ! 
While  thus  it  warbles,  all  your  songs  are  noise. 

See  !  from  the  bower  a  form  majestic  moves, 
And  smoothly  gliding,  shines  along  the  groves  ; 
Say,  comes  a  goddess  from  the  golden  spheres  ? 
A  goddess  comes,  or  Rosalind  appears. 

While  I  was  singing,  and  indeed  all  the  while  I  was  at  dinner, 
the  gentlemen  looked  with  wonder  at  me,  and  at  last,  as  soon  as  I 
was  silent,  old  RIBBLE  expressed  himself  in  the  following  words  : 

' '  You  are  the  most  fortunate  of  mortals  to  be  sure,  Sir.  A  happy 
man  indeed.  You  seem  to  have  health  and  peace,  contentment 
and  tranquillity,  in  perfection.  You  are  the  more  striking,  when 
such  spectacles  as  my  cousin  RICHMOND  (pointing  to  the  dying 
gentleman  in  the  room)  and  I  are  in  contrast  before  you.  I  will 
tell  you  our  stories,  Sir,  in  return  for  your  charming  song,  and 
hope  what  I  am  going  to  say  may  be  of  service  to  you,  as  you  are 
coming  on,  and  we  going  off  from  this  world. 

"  My  kinsman  there,  the  dying  RICHMOND,  in  that  chair,  was 
once  a  Sampson,  and  the  handsomest  man  of  his  time,  though  the 
remains  of  beauty  or  strength  cannot  now  be  traced.  By  drink- 
ing and  whoring  he  brought  himself  to  what  you  see  ;  to  a  state 
that  eludes  all  the  arts  of  medicine.  He  has  an  aggravated  cough, 
which  produces  a  filthy  pus  of  an  ash-colour,  streaked  with  blood, 
and  mixed  with  filaments  torn  from  his  lungs  and  membranes, 
and  with  the  utmost  difficulty  he  respires.  He  has  a  perpetual 
violent  pain  in  his  breast,  a  pricking  soreness  in  his  paps  when  he 
coughs,  and  defects  in  all  his  functions.  He  has  that  flux  of  the 
belly,  which  is  called  a  lientery,  and  the  fluids  of  his  body  are 
wasted  in  colliquative  sweats.  A  stretching  pain  racks  him  if  he 
lies  on  either  side,  by  reason  of  some  adhesion  of  the  lungs  to  the 
pleura.  His  hair  is  fallen  off,  and  his  nails  you  see  are  dead- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  373 

coloured,  and  hooked.  His  countenance,  you  observe,  is  Hippo- 
cratical,  the  very  image  of  death  :  his  face  a  dead  pale,  his  eyes 
sunk,  his  nose  sharp,  his  cheeks  hollow,  his  temples  fallen,  and  his 
whole  body  thin  like  a  skeleton.  What  a  figure  now  is  this  once 
curled  darling  of  the  ladies  :  it  was  done,  good  Sir,  by  the  hand  of 
Intemperance. 

"  As  to  myself,"  he  continued,  "  I  brought  a  consumption  into 
the  world  with  me,  and  by  art  have  supported  under  it.  I  was 
born  with  the  sharp  shoulders  you  see,  which  are  called  pterogoi- 
des,  or  wing-like,  and  had  a  contracted  thorax,  and  long  chest,  a 
thin  and  long  neck,  a  flaccid  tone  of  all  parts  about  the  breast, 
and  a  very  flabby  contexture  of  the  muscles  all  over  my  body  : 
but  nevertheless,  by  a  strict  temperance  all  my  life,  and  by  follow- 
ing the  directions  of  Dr.  Bennet  in  his  Theatrum  Tabidorum,  I 
have  not  only  made  life  tolerable,  but  so  removed  the  burden  of 
stagnant  phlegm  from  the  thorax,  by  throwing  it  down  by  stool, 
and  up  by  expectoration,  exhaling  it  sometimes  through  the  skin, 
and  at  other  times  digesting  it  with  fasting,  that  I  contrive  more 
useful  hours  to  myself  than  the  strong  and  young  can  enjoy  in 
their  continued  scenes  of  dissipation  and  riot.  In  me  is  seen  the 
wonderful  effect  of  rule  and  sobriety.  I  am  now  past  fifty  by 
several  years,  notwithstanding  my  very  weak  and  miserable  con- 
stitution, and  by  attending  to  nature,  and  never  indulging  in  gra- 
tification or  excess,  am  not  only  able  to  live  without  pain,  but  to 
divert  life  by  experimental  philosophy.  I  came  down  to  this  pleas- 
ant place,  chiefly  for  the  benefit  of  poor  RICHMOND,  my  kinsman, 
whom  you  see  with  his  eyes  shut  before  you,  the  very  picture  of 
death  ;  and  also,  with  a  view  to  do  some  good  to  myself,  as  it  is 
the  finest  air  in  the  world.  I  took  a  house  in  the  village  to  live  the 
more  easily,  as  the  lodging-houses  are  all  crowded  here,  and  re- 
solved to  amuse  the  days  I  have  left  in  cultivating  the  science  of 
chemistry  ;  not  in  order  to  finish  what  nature  has  begun,  do  you 
see  me,  as  the  alchymists  talk,  and  procure  to  the  imperfect  metals 
the  much  desired  coction  ;  but,  to  examine  substances,  and  by 
the  examination,  obtain  ideas  of  the  bodies  capable  of  the  three 
degrees  of  fermentation,  spiritous,  acetous,  and  putrid  ;  and  of 
the  products  of  those  fermentations,  to  wit,  ardent  spirits,  acids 
analogous  to  those  of  vegetables  and  animals,  and  volatile  alkalis. 

"  To  this  purpose,  I  made  for  myself  a  laboratory,  and  about  a 
year  ago,  began  to  employ  my  vessels  and  furnaces  in  various  pro- 
cesses. A  vast  variety  of  entertaining  things  have  since  occurred, 
and  my  life  is  thereby  made  agreeable  and  pleasing  ;  though  to 
look  at  my  poor  frame,  one  would  think  me  incapable  of  any  satis- 
factions. I  will  give  you  an  instance  or  two  of  my  amusements, 
and  do  you  judge,  if  they  may  not  afford  a  mind  more  than  the 
tumultuous  joys  of  love  and  wine,  horse-racing,  cock-fighting, 
hunting,  and  other  violent  pleasures  can  yield. 


374  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  You  know,  good  Sir,  I  suppose,  that  there  are  six  metals,  two 
perfect,  and  four  imperfect.  Gold  and  silver,  perfect :  the  others, 
copper,  tin,  lead,  and  iron.  Quicksilver  is  by  some  called  a  seventh 
metal  :  but  that  I  think  cannot  be,  as  it  is  not  malleable.  Yet  it 
is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  semi-metals,  as  it  differs  from 
the  metals  no  otherwise  than  by  being  constantly  in  fusion  ;  which 
is  occasioned  by  its  aptness  to  flow  with  such  a  small  degree  of 
heat,  that  be  there  ever  so  little  warmth  on  earth,  there  is  still 
more  than  enough  to  keep  mercury  in  fusion.  It  must  be  called 
then,  in  my  opinion,  a  metallic  body  of  a  particular  kind  :  And 
the  more  so,  let  me  add,  as  art  has  not  yet  found  out  a  way  of  de- 
priving it  wholly  of  its  phlogiston. 

"  I  must  observe  to  you,  good  Sir,  in  order  to  be  intelligible  in 
what  I  am  saying,  that  the  phlogiston  in  metals  is  the  matter  of 
fire  as  a  constituent  principle  in  bodies.  It  is  the  element  of  fire 
combined  with  some  other  substance,  which  serves  it  as  a  basis  for 
constituting  a  kind  of  secondary  principle  ;  and  it  differs  from 
pure  fixed  fire  in  these  particulars,  that  it  communicates  neither 
heat  nor  light,  it  causes  no  charge,  but  only  renders  body  apt  to 
fuse  by  the  force  of  a  culinary  fire,  and  it  can  be  conveyed  from 
body  to  body,  with  this  circumstance,  that  the  body  deprived  of 
the  phlogiston  is  greatly  altered,  as  is  the  body  that  receives  it. 

"  As  to  the  semi-metals,  which  I  mentioned,  you  will  be  pleased 
to  observe,  that  they  are  regulus  of  antimony,  bismuth,  zinc,  and 
regulus  of  arsenic.  They  are  not  malleable,  and  easily  part  with 
their  phlogiston.  Zinc  and  bismuth  are  free  from  the  poisonous 
quality,  but  arsenic  is  the  most  violent  poison  ;  especially  the 
shining  crystalline  calx  of  it,  or  flowers  raised  by  the  fire,  and 
named  white  arsenic  ;  regulus  of  antimony  is  likewise  a  poison, 
not  in  its  nature,  but  because  it  always  contains  a  portion  of  arsenic 
in  its  composition. 

"  Antimony  is  a  pretty  white  bright  colour,  and  has  the  splen- 
dour, opacity,  [and  gravity  of  a  metal,  but  under  the  hammer 
crumbles  to  dust.  A  moderate  heat  makes  it  flow,  and  a  violent 
fire  dissipates  it  into  smoke  and  white  vapours.  They  adhere  to 
cold  bodies,  and  when  the  farina  is  collected,  we  call  these  vapours 
flowers  of  antimony. 

"  Butter  of  Antimony,  good  Sir,  that  wonderful  corrosive,  is  a 
compound  made  by  distilling  pulverized  regulus  of  antimony, 
and  corrosive  sublimate.  The  production,  on  operation,  is  a 
white  matter,  thick  and  scarce  fluid,  which  is  the  regulus  of  anti- 
mony united  with  the  acid  of  sea-salt.  Here  the  corrosive  sub- 
limate is  decompounded,  the  mercury  revivified,  and  the  acid 
combined  with  it,  quits  it  to  join  the  regulus  of  antimony,  because 
its  affinity  with  it  is  greater."  Little  KIBBLE,  the  Chemist,  went 
on,  and  with  difficulty  I  could  refrain  from  laughing  ;  not  on  ac- 
count of  the  man's  talking  nonsense,  for  his  discourse  was  the  very 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  375 

reverse  of  that ;  but  by  reason  of  the  gripe  he  had  of  my  arm,  the 
pulls  he  gave  me,  if  I  happened  to  look  another  way,  and  the  sur- 
prising eagerness  with  which  he  spoke  ;  which  shewed,  that  he 
was  chemically  struck  to  an  amazing  degree,  and  following  up 
closely,  "  But  liver  of  antimony,  good  Sir,"  he  continued,  "  is 
made  of  equal  parts  of  nitre  and  antimony.  On  the  mixture's 
being  exposed  to  the  action  of  fire  a  violent  detonation  ensues, 
and  the  deflagrating  nitre  consumes  the  sulphur  of  the  antimony, 
and  even  a  part  of  its  phlogiston.  A  greyish  matter  remains 
after  the  detonation,  and  this  is  what  we  call  liver  of  antimony. 
It  contains  a  fixed  nitre,  a  vitriolated  tartar,  and  the  reguline  part 
of  antimony  vitrified. 

"The  principal  use  the  Chemists  make  of  antimony  is  to  separ- 
ate gold  from  the  other  metals.  All  metals,  gold  excepted,  have  a 
greater  affinity  with  'sulphur  than  the  reguline  part  of  antimony. 
As  to  gold,  it  is  incapable  of  contracting  any  union  with  sulphur. 
If  therefore  I  have  a  mass  compounded  of  various  'metals, 
and  want  to  get  the  gold  out,  I  melt  it  with  antimony,  and  as 
soon  as  it  flows,  every  thing  in  the  mass  which  is  not  gold,  unites 
with  the  sulphur,  in  or  of  the  antimony,  and  causes  two  separa- 
tions, that  of  the  sulphur  of  antimony  from  its  reguline  part,  and 
that  of  the  gold  from  the  metals  with  which  it  was  mixed.  This 
produces  two  new  combinations,  the  metals  and  the  sulphur,  in 
fusion,  being  lighter,  rise  to  the  surface  ;  and  the  gold  and  the 
reguline  part  of  antimony  being  heaviest,  the  combination  of  them 
sinks  to  the  bottom.  Now  the  business  is  to  part  these  two,  and 
to  this  purpose,  I  expose  the  combination  to  a  degree  of  fire,  cap- 
able of  dissipating  into  vapours  all  the  semi-metal  the  mass  con- 
tains. The  reguline  being  volatile,  goes  off  by  the  great  heat,  and 
my  gold  remains  pure  and  fixed  in  my  crucible. 

"  As  to  the  antimonial  wine,  made  by  the  essence  of  antimony, 
that  is,  by  impregnating  the  most  generous  white  wine,  with  the 
minims  or  leasts  of  antimony,  which  the  physicians  have  found 
out,  it  is  not  the  part  of  a  chemist  to  speak  of  that ;  and  therefore, 
I  shall  only  observe  to  you,  that  it  is  the  best  vomit,  the  best  purge, 
and  the  best  thing  for  a  sweat,  in  the  world.  I  will  tell  you,  good 
Sir,  what  I  heard  an  eminent  Doctor  say  of  it.  Affirmo  sanctis- 
sime,  nihil  inde  melius,  nihil  tutius,  nihil  efficacius,  deprehendi  un- 
quam,  quam  tritum  ilium,  ac  simplicem  vini  automonialis  inf usum 
ex  vino  albo  generoso,  aromate  aliquo  stomachico  adjecto.  Epo- 
tus  largiter  maximas  movit  vomitiones,  in  minuta  tantum  quanti- 
tate,  ad  guttas  puta  viginta,  aut  triginta,  adhibitus  sudores  elicit 
benignos  ;  paulo  tamen  majorae  aleum  solvit  leniter.  Medica- 
mentum,  paratu  quidem  facillimum,  at  viribus  maximum.  And 
therefore,  good  Sir,  when  any  thing  ails  you,  let  me  recommend 
the  antimonial  wine  to  you.  Thirty  drops  will  sweat  you  'effectu- 
ally, and  about  forty  or  fifty  will  effect  a  purge  in  a  happy  manner. 


376  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  But  as  to  the  second  semi-metal,  bismuth,  it  has  almost  the 
same  appearance  as  regulus  of  antimony,  but  of  a  more  dusky  cast 
inclining  somewhat  to  red.  It  requires  less  heat  than  antimony 
to  flow,  and  like  it,  and  the  other  semi-metals,  is  volatile,  by  the 
action  of  a  violent  fire,  and  under  the  hammer  is  dust.  In  fusion , 
it  mixes  well  with  all  metals,  and  whitens  them  by  union,  but 
destroys  their  malleability.  In  flowing,  it  loses  its  phlogiston 
with  its  metallic  form.  And  it  has  a  singular  property,  which  the 
other  semi-metals  have  not,  of  attenuating  lead  so  as  to  make  it 
amalgamatic  with  mercury,  so  perfectly  as  to  make  it  pass  with  it 
through  shamoy  leather.  As  soon  as  the  amalgama  is  made,  the 
bismuth  goes  off  or  separates  ;  but  the  lead  for  ever  remains  united 
with  the  mercury. 

"It  is  of  a  solution  of  the  ore  of  bismuth,  we  make  that  very 
curious  and  useful  thing  called  sympathetic  ink,  which  is  a  liquor 
of  a  beautiful  colour,  like  that  of  the  lilach  or  pipe-tree  blossom. 
The  process  in  preparing  this  liquor  is  tedious  and  difficult  by 
aqua  fortis,  aqua  regis,  and  fire,  and  therefore  the  ink  is  rarely  to 
be  met  with.  It  is  not  to  be  had,  unless  some  gentleman  who 
makes  chemistry  his  employment,  gives  one  a  present  of  a  bottle 
of  it ;  as  I  do  now  to  you,  in  hopes  it  may  some  time  or  other  be  of 
singular  service  to  you  ;  for  I  have  conceived  a  great  regard  for 
you,  though  I  never  saw  you  before,  as  you  seem  not  only  more 
teachable  than  any  I  have  met  with,  but  to  delight  in  the  infor- 
mation I  give  you  relating  to  chemical  things." 

Here  I  returned  my  Chemist  many  thanks,  and  professed  my 
eternal  obligation  to  him  :  that  I  could  listen  for  years  to  him  ; 
and  wished  it  was  possible  to  become  his  disciple,  that  I  might 
see  him  by  experiment  facilitate  the  study  of  a  science,  more 
entertaining,  instructive,  and  extensively  useful  than  any  other. 
"  But  how,  dear  sir,  am  I  to  use  this  ink,  you  are  so  vastly  good  as 
to  give  me,  to  make  it  more  useful  than  any  other  ink  could  be?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  replied  he,  "  you  must  write  with  this  lilach- 
coloured  liquor,  on  good  well  gummed  paper  that  does  not  sink  ; 
and  the  singularity  of  the  ink,  consists  in  its  property  of  dis- 
appearing entirely,  and  becoming  invisible,  though  it  be  not 
touched  with  anything  whatever,  and  this  distinguishes  it  from 
all  others.  The  writing  must  dry  in  a  warm  air,  and  while  it  is 
cold  no  colour  can  be  perceived  :  but  gently  warming  it  before  the 
fire,  the  writing  gradually  acquires  a  greenish  blue  colour,  which 
is  visible  as  long  as  the  paper  continues  a  little  warm,  and  dis- 
appears entirely  when  it  cools.  When  other  sympathetic  inks 
are  made  to  appear  by  proper  application,  they  do  not  disappear 
again  ;  but  this  liquor  from  the  ore  of  bismuth  must  have  the 
fire  or  heat  kept  to  it,  to  render  it  legible.  If  a  man  writes  to  his 
mistress,  suppose,  or  to  a  minister  of  state,  with  lemon  juice,  once 
the  writing  has  been  warmed  by  the  fire,  and  the  letters  by  that 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  377 

means  appear,  the  epistle  may  be  afterwards  read  at  any  time 
and  place  ;  but  if  the  lady's  father  should  by  accident  get  your 
letter,  written  in  lilach-coloured  liquor,  it  must  still  remain  a 
secret  to  him,  for  if  on  getting  it,  and  opening  the  seal,  he  could 
see  no  writing,  and  therefore  imagining  it  was  written  with  lemon 
juice,  or  some  other  sympathetic  ink,  he  should  hold  it  himself  to 
the  fire,  or  bid  his  servant  hold  it  to  the  heat,  that  the  letters  might 
be  produced,  and  made  visible,  yet  the  moment  bismuth  ink  is 
taken  away  from  the  fire,  and  begins  to  cool,  it  is  as  invisible 
again,  as  a  sheet  of  white  paper.  How  serviceable  this  may  be 
on  various  occasions,  may  be  easily  conceived. 

"  But  as  to  our  third  semi-metal,  called  Zinc,  this  is  so  like 
bismuth  in  appearance,  that  some  have  confounded  it  with  Zinc  ; 
though  it  differs  from  it  essentially  in  its  properties,  and  will  unite 
with  all  metalline  substances,  except  bismuth.  It  is  volatile  by 
fire  above  all  things,  and  makes  a  sublimate  of  the  metallic  sub- 
stances with  which  it  is  fused.  Zinc  mixed  with  copper  in  the 
quantity  of  a  fourth  part,  produces  brass.  If  the  Zinc  is  not  very 
pure,  the  composition  proves  Tombac,  or  Prince's  metal. 

"  Regulus  of  arsenic,  the  fourth  semi-metal,  has  a  colour  re- 
sembling lead,  unites  readily  with  metallic  substances,  and  renders 
them  brittle,  unmalleable,  and  volatile.  The  calx  of  it  produced 
by  fire,  may  be  made  volatile  by  more  fire,  and  in  this  differs  from 
the  calx  of  all  metalline  substances  ;  for  all  other  calxes  are  fixed, 
and  cannot  be  moved.  It  has  likewise  a  saline  character,  in 
which  its  corrosive  quality  or  poison  consists  :  a  quality  from 
which  the  other  metallic  substances  are  free,  when  they  are  not 
combined  with  a  saline  matter.  These  things  being  noticed,  in 
relation  to  metals,  and  semi-metals  in  general,  I  will  now  proceed 
to  relate  a  few  curious  cases,  in  respect  of  the  metals. 

"  Gold,  our  first  metal,  has  ten  sensible  criterions.  It  is  the 
heaviest  and  densest  of  all  bodies  :  the  most  simple  of  all  bodies  : 
the  most  fixed  of  all  bodies  :  the  only  body  that  cannot  be  turned 
into  scoriae,  by  antimony  and  lead  ;  the  most  ductile  of  all  bodies  : 
so  soft  as  to  be  scarcely  elastic  or  sonorous  :  must  be  red  hot  to 
melt  :  is  dissolvable  by  sea-salt  and  its  preparations,  but  remains 
untouched  by  any  other  species  of  salts  ;  and  of  consequence  not 
liable  to  rust ;  as  aqua  regia  and  spirit  of  sea-salt  do  not  float  in 
the  air,  unless  in  laboratories,  or  chemists'  shops,  where  we  find 
them  sometimes  :  it  unites  spontaneously  with  pure  quick-silver, 
and  never  wastes  by  emitting  effluvia,  or  exhalations.  These  are 
the  ten  sensible  properties  or  characteristics  of  this  metal.  It  is 
certainly  pure  gold,  if  it  has  these  criterions,  and  they  are  of  great 
use  in  life  ;  especially  to  persons  who  have  to  do  with  that  subtil 
tribe,  the  alchemists. 

"As  to  the  weight  of  gold,  it  is  more  than  nineteen  times 
heavier  than  water,  bulk  for  bulk,  and  this  property  is  inseparable 


378  THE  LIFE  OF 


from  it ;  it  being  impossible  to  render  gold  more  or  less  heavy  ; 
and  for  this  reason,  the  specific  gravity  of  gold,  if  it  had  no  other 
criterion,  might  demonstrate  real  gold.  To  make  gold,  other 
metals  must  be  rendered  equiponderant  to  it,  and  therefore,  if  an 
alchemist  should  offer  to  obtrude  a  metal  on  you  for  gold,  hang 
an  equal  weight  of  pure,  and  of  suspected  gold  by  two  threads  to  a 
nice  balance,  and  on  immerging  them  in  water,  if  the  alchemist's 
gold  be  pure,  the  water  will  retain  both  pieces  in  aequilibrio  ;  other- 
wise, the  adulterate  metal  will  rise,  and  the  pure  descend. 

"  The  reason  is,  all  bodies  lose  some  of  their  weight  in  a  fluid, 
and  the  weight  which  a  body  loses  in  a  fluid,  is  to  its  whole  weight, 
as  the  specific  gravity  of  the  fluid  is  to  that  of  the  body.  The 
specific  gravity  of  a  body  is  the  weight  of  it,  when  the  bulk  is 
given  ;  thirty-eight  grains  of  gold  weighed  in  the  air,  is  not  the 
true  weight  of  it  :  for  there  it  loses  the  weight  of  an  equal  bulk 
of  air  :  it  weighs  only  thirty-six  grains  in  the  water,  and  there  it 
loses  the  weight  of  as  much  water,  as  is  equal  in  bulk  of  itself,  that 
is,  two  grains,  and  as  the  gold  weighs  thirty-eight  grains,  it  fol- 
lows, that  the  weight  of  water  is  to  that  of  gold,  bulk  for  bulk,  as 
two  to  thirty-eight,  that  is  as  the  weight  lost  in  the  fluid  is  the 
whole  weight. 

"  And  so,  if  a  piece  of  gold,  and  a  piece  of  copper,  are  equipon- 
derant in  air,  yet  in  water  the  gold  will  outweigh  the  copper  ; 
because  their  bulks,  though  of  equal  weight,  are  inversely  as  their 
specific  gravities,  that  is,  the  gold  must  be  as  much  less  than  the 
copper,  as  the  specific  gravity  of  gold  is  greater  than  that  of  cop- 
per :  and  as  they  must  both  lose  weight  in  proportion  to  bulk  in 
water,  therefore  the  gold,  the  lesser  of  the  two,  loses  less  of  its 
weight  than  the  copper  does,  and  consequently,  out-weighs  the 
copper  in  water.  I  hope  this  is  clear.  The  case  is  the  same;  in 
proportion,  in  pure  gold,  and  gold  mixed  with  other  metals. 
The  bulk  of  the  pure  gold  must  be  less  than  that  of  alloyed  gold, 
and  its  weight  greater  in  water  ;  though  both  equiponderate,  a 
pound  suppose,  in  air." 

"It  is  very  plain,  sir,  and  I  request  you  will  proceed.  You 
give  me  valuable  information,  and  oblige  me  very  much."  This 
pleased  the  Chemist,  and  the  ingenious  little  RIBBLE  went 
on. 

"  As  to  the  simplicity  of  gold,  we  mean,  by  simple  body,  that 
whose  minutest  part  has  all  the  physical  properties  of  the  whole 
mass.  Now  dissolve  a  grain  of  gold  in  aqua  regia,  and  from  a 
single  drop  of  the  solution,  a  particle  of  gold  may  be  separated, 
and  have  all  the  characters  of  gold,  except  those  of  magnitude, 
though  the  separated  particle  of  gold  shall  only  be  the  millionth 
part  of  the  grain.  Or,  fuse  a  single  grain  of  gold  with  a  mass  of 
silver,  and  mix  the  whole  together,  so  that  the  gold  shall  be 
equally  distributed  :  then  take  a  particle  thereof,  and  you  will 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  379 

have  a  particle  of  perfect  gold  ;  for  dissolve  the  least  part  of  the 
mixture  in  aqua  fortis,  and  a  quantity  of  gold  will  precipitate  to 
the  bottom.  It  will  bear  the  same  proportion  to  the  grain,  that 
the  part  dissolved  did  to  the  whole  mass. 

"  Having  mentioned  aqua  regia  and  aqua  fortis,  I  must,  to  be 
intelligible,  say  two  or  three  words  in  relation  to  them.  Aqua 
regia  is  an  extract  by  fire  from  sea-salt  and  spirit  of  nitre.  The 
acid  liquor  that  comes  over  from  them  into  the  receiver,  is  aqua 
regis.  Aqua  fortis,  or  spirit  of  nitre,  is  a  nitrous  acid  separated 
from  its  basis,  nitre,  by  the  vitriolic  acid.  Aqua  regis  only  will 
dissolve  gold.  Silver  is  not  soluable  by  aqua  regis  ;  its  proper 
solvent  is  the  acid  of  nitre  or  aqua  fortis.  But  if  you  want  to 
separate  a  mass  of  gold  and  silver,  either  will  do.  You  may  dis- 
solve the  gold  by  aqua  regia,  and  let  the  silver  remain  pure  ;  or, 
dissolve  the  silver  by  aqua  fortis,  and  let  the  gold  remain  pure. 
Only  note  in  this  case  of  a  mixed  lump  of  gold  and  silver  the 
operation  by  aqua  fortis  is  preferable,  for  this  reason  ;  that  aqua 
regis  in  dissolving  the  gold,  takes  up  likewise  a  little  silver  ;  but 
aqua  fortis  hath  not  the  least  effect  on  gold  ;  and  note  further, 
that  if  there  be  equal  parts  of  gold  and  silver  in  the  mixture,  they 
cannot  be  parted  by  aqua  fortis.  It  has  not  then  the  least  effect 
on  the  silver,  which  is  very  strange.  To  make  aqua  fortis  act 
duly  on  silver  mixed  with  gold,  the  silver  must  be  at  least  in  a 
triple  proportion  to  that  of  the  gold.  The  reason  of  the  singular 
effect  is,  that  when  the  gold  exceeds,  or  the  parts  of  both  are  equal 
in  quantity,  then,  as  both  are  intimate,  united  in  the  mass,  the 
parts  or  minims  of  the  gold  coat  over  the  parts  of  the  silver,  and 
defend  them  from  the  action  of  the  aqua  fortis.  In  this  case, 
aqua  regia  must  be  used  to  dissolve  the  gold,  and  leave  the  silver 
pure  :  or,  as  aqua  regia  takes  up  a  little  of  the  silver,  when  it  dis- 
solves the  gold,  melt  the  metalline  mass,  and  add  as  much  silver 
as  will  make  it  a  triple  proportion  to  the  gold.  Then  you  may 
by  aqua  fortis  take  up  all  your  silver  in  the  dissolution,  and  leave 
all  the  pure  gold. 

"  But  as  to  the  third  criterion  of  gold,  its  being  the  most  fixed 
of  all  bodies,  this  is  evident  from  the  violence  of  fire  having  no 
effect  on  it.  An  ounce  of  it  exposed  for  the  space  of  two  months, 
in  the  eye  of  a  glass  furnace,  does  not  lose  half  a  grain.  It  may 
from  thence  be  said  to  be  incorruptible. 

"As  to  gold's  resisting  antimony,  and  not  turning  into  scoriae 
by  its  force,  it  is  most  certain  from  hence,  that  if  you  take  a  mass 
consisting  of  gold,  silver,  copper,  the  other  metals,  with  stones, 
&c.,  and  fuse  it  with  antimony,  the  bodies  will  flow  on  the  surface, 
and  be  easily  blown  off  by  the  bellows  :  the  antimony  all  evapo- 
rates, and  leaves  the  gold  alone.  This  is  called  the  last  test  of 
gold,  to  try  the  purity  of  it.  If  the  remaining  gold  have  lost  nothing 
of  its  weight,  it  is  allowed  perfectly  pure,  and  called  gold  of  twenty- 


380  THE  LIFE  OF 


four  carats  ;  or  if  it  be  found  one  twenty-fourth  lighter,  it  is  said 
to  be  twenty-three  carats  fine. 

"  But  as  to  the  ductility  of  gold,  this  is  the  most  extraordinary 
property  of  it.  The  arts  of  gold-beating  and  wire- drawing,  show 
us  things  quite  amazing.  In  leaf-gold,  a  grain  and  a  quarter  of  the 
metal,  may  be  made  to  cover  an  area  of  fifty  square  inches  ;  and 
if  the  leaf  be  divided  by  parallel  lines  a  hundredth  part  of  an  inch,  a 
grain  of  gold  will  be  divided  into  five  hundred  thousand  minute 
squares,  all  discernible  by  the  eye  :  yet  this  is  not  the  most  can 
be  done  by  the  hammer.  A  single  grain  of  gold  may  be  stretched 
into  a  leaf  that  will  cover  a  house,  and  yet  the  leaf  remain  so 
compact,  as  not  to  transmit  the  rays  of  light,  nor  ever  admit  spirit 
of  wine  to  transude.  This  however  is  nothing  to  the  effects  of 
wire- drawing. 

"  A  gold  wire  is  only  a  silver  one  gilt,  and  if  you  coat  a  silver 
cylinder  of  forty-eight  ounces  weight,  with  one  ounce  of  gold, 
which  is  sufficient,  this  cylinder  may  be  drawn  out  into  a  wire 
so  very  fine,  that  two  yards  thereof  shall  weigh  only  one  grain,  and 
ninety-eight  yards  only  forty-nine  grains,  so  that  one  grain  of 
gold  gilds  ninety-eight  yards  ;  and  of  course  the  ten  thousandth 
part  of  a  grain,  is  above  one-third  part  of  an  inch  long.  And  since 
the  third  part  of  an  inch  is  yet  capable  of  being  divided  into  ten 
lesser  parts  visible  to  the  eye,  it  is  evident  that  the  hundred 
thousandth  part  of  a  grain  of  gold,  may  be  seen  without  the  help 
of  a  microscope.  And  yet  so  intimately  do  its  parts  cohere,  that 
though  the  gold  wherewith  the  wire  is  coated,  be  stretched  to  such 
a  degree,  there  is  not  any  appearance  of  the  colour  of  silver  under- 
neath. Nor  is  this  all. 

"  In  supergildings,  that  is,  to  make  the  richest  lace,  they  employ 
but  six  ounces  of  gold,  to  cover  or  gild  forty-five  marks  of  silver, 
that  is,  twenty-two  pounds  and  a  half  avoirdupoise  weight, 
rounded  into  the  form  of  a  cylinder  or  roller,  which  hath  fifteen 
lines  in  diameter,  and  twenty-two  inches  in  length  ;  and  here  the 
stratum  of  gold  which  envelops  the  ingot  that  is  to  be  drawn  into 
wire,  hath  no  more  thickness  than  the  fifteenth  part  of  a  line, 
which  is  extremely  thin  ;  as  a  line  is  the  twelfth  part  of  an  inch. 

"  But  to  make  the  common  gold-thread,  they  do  not  use  more 
than  two  ounces  of  gold,  and  sometimes  not  more  than  one,  to 
gild  or  cover  the  ingot  I  have  mentioned,  and  then  the  enveloping 
stratum  is  not  more  in  thickness,  if  two  ounces  be  employed, 
than  the  forty-fifth  part  of  a  line  ;  and  if  one  ounce  be  used,  but 
the  ninetieth  part  of  a  line.  Two  ounces  of  gold  are  generally 
used,  in  gilding  or  covering  the  ingot  I  have  mentioned,  and  vastly 
thinner  must  the  stratum  be,  when  the  ingot  is  drawn  till  it  sur- 
passes the  fineness  of  a  hair,  and  the  diameter  is  nine  thousand 
times  smaller  than  what  it  had  in  the  mass.  By  weighing  out 
half  a  dram  of  this  thread  or  wire,  it  is  found  by  measuring  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  381 

length  of  the  half  dram,  that  the  ingot  of  twenty-two  pounds  and 
a  half,  and  twenty- two  inches  long,  is  changed  into  a  length  of  one 
hundred  and  sixteen  millions  three  thousand  five  hundred  and 
twenty  feet,  that  is,  ninety-six  leagues  and  one  hundred  and 
ninety-six  fathoms  ;  for  the  half  dram  of  wire  or  thread  measures 
two  hundred  and  two  feet ;  by  consequence,  an  ounce  of  it,  three 
thousand  two  hundred  and  thirty-two  feet ;  a  mark  of  it,  or 
eight  ounces,  twenty-five  thousand  eight  hundred  and  fifty-six 
feet.  And  yet,  astonishing  as  this  length  is,  for  two  ounces  of 
gold  to  be  drawn  to,  the  gold  which  covers  the  silver  never  ceases 
to  gild  it.  The  gold  still  keeps  pace  with  the  wire,  stretch  it  to 
what  length  the  drawers  can,  through  the  wire-drawing  irons,  and 
holes  much  smaller  one  than  another.  The  silver  never  appears. 

"  It  does  not  however  rest  there.  Before  the  thread  or  wire 
is  wound  on  silk,  and  before  they  spin  it,  it  must  be  flatted  by 
passing  it  between  steel  wheels  extremely  well  polished,  and  this 
flatting  increases  its  length  to  more  than  a  seventh  part.  One 
ingot,  therefore,  of  eight  marks,  or  twenty-two  and  a  half  pounds, 
and  twenty-two  inches  long,  by  this  increase  of  a  seventh  part, 
is  brought  to  the  length  of  a  hundred  and  eleven  leagues,  that 
is,  about  three  hundred  English  miles. 

"  But  amazing  as  this  extent  is,  it  is  not  the  utmost  bounds  to 
which  the  ductility  of  gold  may  be  carried.  One  ounce  only  of 
gold  is  sometimes  used  to  cover  one  ingot,  and  drawn  to  the 
length  I  have  mentioned,  and  by  the  time  it  has  passed  the  flatting 
wheels,  the  gold  that  covers  the  silver  laminae,  must  have  its 
thickness  reduced  to  less  than  the  millionth  part  of  a  line  ;  that 
is,  a  twelve  millionth  of  an  inch.  This  is  beyond  the  reach 
of  our  conception.  Imagination  cannot  plumb  her  line  so  low." 

"  But,  sir,"  said  I,  "  may  not  the  gold  be  divided  into  small 
grains  separate  one  from  another,  but  yet  near  enough  to  give 
their  colour  to  the  silver  ?  Though  we  may  not  be  able  to  see 
the  thing,  yet  I  think  it  may  be  imagined  ;  the  gold  on  the 
laminae  doth  not  form  a  continued  leaf." 

•  "  Experience,  good  sir,  demonstrates  the  contrary,  that  every 
point  of  silver  hath  its  cover  of  gold.  Put  a  piece  of  this  gilt 
wire  in  aqua  fortis,  the  silver  will  be  dissolved,  and  the  gold  left 
a  perfect,  continuous  tube.  It  is  an  amazing  thing  !  and  shews 
the  astonishing  power  of  the  first  cause  !  As  to  the  reason  of  this 
ductility,  and  why  gold  in  such  a  manner  adheres  to  silver,  so  as 
never  to  part  from  it,  if  the  twenty-two  and  a  half  pounds  of 
silver  gilded  with  one  ounce  of  gold  could  be  extended  by  art  for 
ever,  this  is  past  our  finding  out.  It  is  a  secret  of  nature  we  can- 
not form  any  idea  of — 

Calignosa  node  prewit  Deus." 

RIBBLE  went  on.  "  These  are  the  tilings  most  remarkable  in 
relation  to  gold  ;  and  I  have  only  to  add,  that  as  to  the  manner 


382  THE  LIFE  OF 


of  getting  it,  it  is  found  sometimes  in  glebes  or  clods,  consisting 
of  gold  alone  ;  sometimes  in  a  powdery  form,  and  then  called 
gold-dust,  or  sand-gold,  in  the  sands  and  mud  of  rivers  and 
brooks  ;  but  most  commonly  in  whitish  clods,  dug  out  of  mines 
of  vast  depth,  and  intermixed  with  silver  and  various  fossils.  This 
they  reduce  by  fire  to  a  mass  of  metal,  and  by  aqua  regia  or  aqua 
fortis,  the  gold  is  easily  taken  out  of  the  ore. 

"  As  to  gold's  being  so  yielding  and  ductile  by  human  art,  it  is 
to  be  observed,  that  in  return  it  exerts  a  greater  power  on  the 
human  mind.  Passive  it  is  in  its  ductility,  but  more  active  in  its 
influence  on  man.  It  is  a  greater  tyrant  than  a  slave.  It  drives 
repeated  millions  of  the  human  race  to  death  and  hell.  King  of 
metals  as  it  is,  bright  and  glorious  to  behold,  and  what  procures 
innumerable  blessings  to  mankind  ;  yet,  without  the  grace  of 
God,  to  moderate  the  passion  for  it,  and  to  direct  the  mind  in  a 
true  use  of  it,  it  is  more  dangerous  to  beings  on  a  trial  in  a  first 
state,  than  even  poverty  can  be  in  this  lower  hemisphere.  What 
villainies  are  daily  committed  to  get  it !  What  iniquities  daily 
perpetrated  by  those  who  have  plenty  of  it !  Lead  us  not  into 
temptation,  should  relate  as  well  to  too  much  of  it,  as  to  a  total 
want  of  it ;  and  it  is  well  prayed,  In  all  time  of  our  wealth,  good 
Lord  deliver  us. 

"  In  my  opinion,  neither  poverty  nor  riches,  but  a  middle  state, 
is  the  thing  we  should  desire.  It  is  in  this  condition,  we  can  best 
live  soberly,  or  with  a  sound  mind,  and  conduct  ourselves  as  those 
who  have  an  intelligent  spirit  to  preside  in  body.  Too  much  gold 
most  commonly  inverts  this  order,  and  produces  an  apostasy 
that  sets  the  inferior  powers  in  the  throne,  and  enslaves  the  mind 
to  the  body.  It  gives  the  passions  the  commanding  influence, 
and  makes  reason  receive  law  from  appetite. 

"  If  we  look  into  the  world,  we  find  too  often,  in  this  case,  that 
wealth  is  big  with  innumerable  sins.  The  rich  are  filled  with  wine, 
wherein  is  excess,  and  shew  an  unbridled  dissoluteness  of  manners. 
Their  eyes  behold  strange  women,  and  their  hearts  utter  perverse 
things.  Instead  of  regarding  the  common  good,  they  commit  the 
most  extravagant  injuries.  Of  such  a  hardening  nature  is  too 
much  gold,  that  it  tends  to  make  conscience  insensible  and  stupid, 
and  renders  it  for  ever  unapt  for  impression.  Then  whoredom 
and  wine,  and  new  wine,  take  away  the  heart,  and  men  are  made 
to  forget  the  law  of  God. 

"But  having  neither  poverty  nor  riches,  in  the  calm  middle 
state,  having  all  reasonable  conveniences,  we  can  fairly  come  by  ; 
a  vast  variety  of  creatures  for  our  food,  and  wine  in  its  season,  to 
make  glad  the  heart ;  we  may  then  partake  of  the  bounties  of 
Providence,  with  a  sober  freedom,  and  at  the  same  time,  can  best 
lay  up  for  ourselves  a  good  foundation,  or  security  for  the  time  to 
come,  that  we  may  lay  hold  of  eternal  life. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 


"  Though  it  is  with  a  prospect  of  difficulties,  that  all  must  enter 
upon  religion,  and  with  labour  and  difficulty,  maintain  our  ground, 
and  acquit  ourselves  like  Christians,  that  is,  resist  the  devil  in  all 
his  assaults,  overcome  the  world  in  its  ensnaring  influence,  and 
mortify  the  irregular  inclinations  of  nature  ;  yet  in  the  happy 
middle  state,  where  there  is  no  poverty  nor  riches,  that  is,  great 
wealth,  we  can  make  everlasting  glory  and  felicity  our  governing 
aim,  and  bound  our  ambition  and  desires  by  nothing  short  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead.  We  may  live  in  a  full  and  ready  sub- 
mission of  the  soul  to  the  authority  of  God's  word.  Things  eternal 
may  have  the  ascendant  in  our  practical  judgment,  and  then  with 
pleasure  we  become  followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and 
patience  inherit  the  promises. 

"  Good  sir,  this  is  all  our  sowing  time,  and  whatsover  a  man 
soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap.  He  that  soweth  to  his  flesh, 
shall  of  his  flesh  reap  corruption  ;  but  he  that  soweth  to  the  spirit, 
shall  of  the  spirit  reap  everlasting  life.  And  therefore,  whether 
your  lot  be  cast  in  the  middling  state,  or  you  were  born  to  thou- 
sands a  year,  let  wisdom  be  your  rule,  and  prefer  that  happiness 
which  has  everlasting  duration,  in  the  realms  of  light  above,  to 
any  present  good  that  can  come  in  competition  with  it.  Do  not 
spend  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread  —  and  your  labour  for  that 
which  satisfieth  not.  Do  not  employ  your  pains  for  that  which 
hath  vanity  written  upon  it,  by  the  word  of  God,  by  the  testimony 
of  the  wisest  men,  and  by  frequent  experience  :  but  let  your 
principal  regard  be  for  your  immortal  soul,  when  nothing  can  be 
given  in  exchange  for  the  soul.  Implore  the  light  and  grace  of 
"the  good  spirit,  and  by  the  quickening  influences  of  the  Father 
of  the  universe,  and  the  exertion  of  your  whole  strength,  let  it  be 
the  principal  labour  of  your  every  day,  to  make  advances  in  the 
divine  life,  and  be  a  blessing  to  society  wherever  you  come.  In 
virtue  and  charity  may  you  excel. 

"  You  will  pardon  old  RIBBLE,  I  hope,  good  sir,  and  excuse  his 
addressing  himself  to  you  in  this  manner.  It  is  an  odd  con- 
clusion, I  own,  to  a  discourse  on  metals  and  semi-metals  ;  but  it 
is  from  an  extreme  regard  I  have  conceived  for  you,  that  I  talk 
as  I  do,  and  presume  to  call  upon  you,  (as  you  are  a  young  man  of 
fortune,  I  suppose)  to  consider  seriously  of  that  decree,  which  is 
the  result  of  unerring  wisdom,  and  the  will  of  the  Rector  of  the 
universe,  to  wit,  that  we  are  all  under  the  law  of  death,  and  through 
that  gate  must  pass,  perhaps  at  a  day's,  an  hour's  warning,  to  the 
resurrection  of  the  dead,  to  be  adjudged  to  happiness  or  misery, 
as  time  has  been  employed,  and  life  spent  here.  This  is  the  decree 
of  the  Most  High  God,  and  of  consequence,  it  is  incumbent  on  us, 
to  prepare  for  the  awful  hereafter,  and  endeavour  by  good  action, 
and  a  virtuous  mind,  by  purity  .Tof^conscience,  and  an  exalted 


384  THE  LIFE  OF 


piety,  to  come  off  well  in  judgment.     Happy,  thrice  happy  they 
that  do  so." 

Here  little  RIBBLE  the  Chemist  had  done,  and  I  had  reason  to 
return  him  my  very  hearty  thanks  for  the  favour  of  his  whole 
discourse.  I  was  vastly  obliged  to  him  for  the  knowledge  he  had 
given  me,  in  relation  to  the  philosophy  of  metals,  and  taking  him 
by  the  hand,  promised  him,  that  I  would  ever  gratefully  remember 
his  moral  conclusion.  This  pleased  the  old  gentleman,  and  at 
four  in  the  afternoon  we  parted. 

Reflecting  on  the  wonders  of  the  metals,  which  I  had  heard  old 
RIBBLE  so  well  discourse  of,  and  being  more  intent  on  what  had 
been  told  me  of  these  things,  that  I  might  never  forget  such  useful 
learning,  I  trotted  on  for  several  hours  without  minding  the  road, 
and  arrived  as  the  sun  was  setting  in  a  deep  and  melancholy  vale, 
through  which  a  pleasant  river  ran,  that  by  the  murmur  of  its 
streams,  seemed  to  be  marked  out  for  the  rendezvous  of  the 
thoughtful,  who  love  the  deep  recesses,  and  embowering  woods, 
with  the  soft  thrillings  of  gliding  streams,  as  much  as  the  sprightly 
court  the  gayest  scenes.  In  this  sweet  spot,  I  found  a  pretty 
country  house,  and  not  knowing  where  I  was,  rode  up  to  the  door, 
to  enquire  my  way.  A  gentleman,  who  seemed  to  be  about  forty, 
immediately  appeared,  let  me  know  I  was  at  a  considerable  dis- 
tance from  any  town,  and  as  it  was  near  ten,  told  me  I  had  best 
rest  with  him  that  night,  and  I  was  most  heartily  welcome.  This 
was  humane  and  civil.  I  accepted  the  kind  invitation,  and  im- 
mediately went  in  with  him.  He  brought  me  into  a  decent  room, 
and  gave  me  a  handsome  meal.  We  had  a  couple  of  bottles  after 
supper,  talked  of  a  thousand  things,  and  then  withdrew  to  wind 
up  the  machines.  He  would  not  let  me  stir  the  next  morning,  and 
after  dinner  we  became  well  acquainted.  Six  days  this  gentle- 
man prevailed  with  me  to  stay  at  his  house,  and  then  I  left  him 
with  regret.  He  was  so  generous,  so  civil,  and  in  every  thing  so 
agreeable,  that  I  could  not  avoid  admiring  him,  and  regarding 
him  to  an  extreme  degree.  His  name  was  MONCTON. 

AVERY  MONCTON  had  seen  the  world,  when  he  was  a  young 
man,  and  by  reading  much,  and  thinking  a  great  deal,  had  ac- 
quired an  extensive  knowledge,  and  a  deep  penetration  :  in  him 
the  gentleman  and  the  scholar  were  visible.  He  seemed  superior 
to  folly,  and  his  philosophy  appeared  to  be  an  assiduous  examina- 
tion of  his  ideas,  fancies,  and  opinions,  in  order  to  render  them 
true  and  just.  His  religion  consisted  in  a  cheerful  submission  to 
the  divine  pleasure,  with  respect  to  all  things  independent  of 
us,  or  absolutely  external  to  us  ;  and  in  a  continued  exertion  of 
benevolence,  in  doing  all  the  good  he  could.  What  the  theology 
of  sects  was,  and  the  notions  of  divines,  he  never  minded.  It  was 
his  opinion,  that  an  active  charity  is  the  only  thing  that  can  liken 
and  approve  us  to  the  original  benevolent  mind  :  and  that  it  is 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  385 

reasonable  to  submit  to  all  his  dispensations,  since  the  provi- 
dence of  an  infinitely  perfect  Being,  must  do  all  for  the  best  in  the 
whole.  This  was  A  VERY  MONCTON,  Esq.  In  his  person  he  was 
tall,  and  very  thin. 

This  gentleman  told  me  the  following  remarkable  story  relating 
to  himself,  on  my  asking  him,  if  he  had  ever  been  married  ?  ' '  Yes, 
sir,"  he  replied.  "  When  I  was  about  five  and  twenty,  a  young 
lady  came  in  my  way,  who  had  all  the  external  charms  that  ever 
adorned  a  woman,  and  I  thought,  her  mind  as  perfect  in  goodness 
of  every  kind,  as  minds  can  be  on  this  earth.  I  made  my  ad- 
dresses to  her,  and  with  some  difficulty  persuaded  her  to  accept  of 
a  good  jointure,  and  be  a  wife  ;  for  she  had  got  it  into  her  head, 
that  Christian  perfection  consisted  in  a  virgin-life.  I  loved  her  to 
an  extreme  degree,  and  fancied  myself  beyond  mortals  happy,  as 
her  fondness  seemed  equal  to  my  passion,  and  she  expressed  it  in 
a  most  transporting  way.  Three  months  passed  on  in  this  de- 
lightful manner,  and  I  should  have  thought  an  age  but  minutes, 
if  the  scene  was  to  have  no  change.  But  every  thing  must  have 
an  end  in  this  poor  state.  Business  called  me  one  morning  early 
into  the  city,  and  till  it  was  late  at  night,  I  thought  not  to  return  ; 
back  however  I  was  compelled  to  go  for  some  papers,  I  had  forgot, 
and  designing  to  surprise  my  wife  agreeably,  came  in  by  a  key  I 
had,  at  the  wash-house  door,  and  unseen  went  softly  up  to  my 
chamber,  where  I  expected  to  find  my  beloved  in  a  sweet  sleep. 
Gently  I  touched  the  lock,  and  intended  as  my  charmer  slumbered, 
to  give  this  idol  of  my  heart  a  kiss.  But,  as  I  opened  the  door 
without  being  heard,  I  saw  a  man  by  my  bedside,  and  my  fond 
faithful  wife,  buttoning  up  his  breeches.  Amazement  seized  me, 
but  I  was  not  in  a  rage.  I  only  said  '  Is  that  Louisa  I  see  ? ' 
and  shut  the  door.  Down  stairs  I  went  immediately,  and  out 
again  the  same  way  I  came  in.  I  was  done  with  love  for  ever, 
and  from  that  time  never  saw  my  wife  more.  A  ship  being  to 
sail  the  next  day  for  Constantinople,  I  went  a  passenger  in  it,  and 
resolved  to  live  abroad  some  years. 

"  Six  years  I  resided  in  Greece,  and  visited  every  curious  place. 
Four  I  spent  in  Asia  Minor,  and  two  in  Italy  and  France.  I 
diverted  myself  with  noting  down  the  extraordinary  things  I  saw, 
and  I  purchased  several  fine  antiquities  by  the  way.  When  done, 
I  came  back  to  my  country  again,  and  this  little  seat  I  now  live 
at,  being  to  be  sold,  I  bought  it  immediately,  and  have  resided  here 
ever  since.  My  study,  my  garden,  and  my  horse,  divert  me  fully 
and  finely  every  day.  I  have  all  I  desire  in  this  world,  and  reign 
more  happily  over  my  few  subjects,  in  this  airy,  silent,  secret  spot, 
than  the  greatest  monarch  can  do  on  a  throne.  My  people  are 
only  one  young  man,  who  is  my  gardener,  my  footman,  and  my 
groom,  and  two  old  women,  my  maids.  These  are  ever  attentive 
to  my  will,  and  by  their  good  behaviour  and  management,  make 


386  THE  LIFE  OF 


my  lodge  as  agreeable,  and  life  as  pleasing,  as  can  be  expected  in 
this  system  of  things." 

MONCTON'S  story  pleased  me  much,  and  I  wondered  greatly  at 
his  happy  temper,  when  he  saw  his  beloved  wife  buttoning  up 
the  breeches  of  the  man.  "  But  did  you  ever  hear  what  became 
of  her  after  ?  Faulty  as  she  was,  may  there  not  be  found  an 
honest  charming  woman,  to  render  your  hours  more  delightful 
than  study  and  contrivance  can  make  them,  without  a  soft  part- 
ner through  life  ?  Come  into  the  world  with  me,  sir,  and  I  will 
engage  to  find  out  for  you  a  primitive  Christian  of  a  woman,  with 
all  the  beauties  of  body  that  Lucian  gives  his  images." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  replied  MONCTON  "  in  offering  to 
look  out  for  another  wife  for  me,  and  I  thank  you  very  heartily, 
for  your  well-meant  kindness  ;  but  as  I  never  inquired  what  be- 
came of  my  first  wife,  from  the  morning  I  left  her,  and  know  only 
that  she  is  dead,  as  her  jointure  has  not  been  demanded  for  several 
years  past ;  so  shall  I  never  be  concerned  with  a  second.  Per- 
haps there  are  some  honest  women  in  the  world,  I  hope  so  ;  but 
I  have  had  enough  of  marriage.  Beside,  I  think  it  time  now  to 
turn  my  thoughts  a  better  way.  In  the  forty-fifth  year  of  my 
age,  it  cannot  be  weak,  to  begin  to  consider  the  great  change 
before  me,  and  fix  my  hopes  on  a  good  remove  into  some  better  and 
happier  region.  If  I  was  unfortunate  with  a  wife  when  a  young 
man,  I  have  little  reason  to  expect  better  days  with  one,  as  age 
comes  on.  I  might  find  myself  again  most  sadly  mistaken. 
But  there  can  be  no  disappointment  in  making  it  the  principal 
work  of  life,  to  prepare,  in  such  a  retirement  as  this,  for  that  ap- 
proaching hour,  when  we  must  submit  to  the  power  and  tyranny 
of  death  and  corruption.  By  this  means,  the  greatest  happiness 
may  be  secured.  In  everything  else,  there  is  uncertainty  and 
vanity.  I  speak  principally  in  respect  of  my  time  of  life,  who 
am  hastening  fast  to  fifty  ;  but  at  every  time,  it  is  my  opinion, 
that  men,  as  rationals,  and  beings  who  take  on  themselves  the 
honourable  profession  of  the  Christian  religion,  should  not  comply 
with  the  criminal  liberties  allowed  in  the  world,  and  give  into  the 
illicit  usages  and  customs  of  place  and  company,  for  fear  of  ridicule, 
or  to  avoid  giving  offence  ;  but  keep  strictly  to  the  will  and  laws 
of  their  higher  country,  and  in  all  things  have  a  special  regard  to 
holiness,  truth,  and  purity. 

"  I  do  not  say  this  by  way  of  preaching,  but  that  you  may 
thereby  have  a  truer  idea  of  the  man  you  chanced  to  find  in  a 
lone  house  on  the  vast  common.  Seven  years  have  I  now  lived 
here,  and  in  all  that  time,  have  not  been  once  in  London  :  but 
sometimes  I  ride  to  a  neighbouring  village,  and  if  on  the  road,  or 
at  an  inn,  I  can  pick  up  a  sensible  agreeable  man,  I  love  to  dine 
with  him,  and  drink  a  pint  of  wine.  Such  a  man  I  frequently  ride 
in  quest  of,  and  if  he  be  entirely  to  my  mind,  which  is  very  rarely 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  387 

the  case,  I  invite  him  home  with  me,  to  pass  at  my  lodge  two  or 
three  days.  Far  then  am  I  from  being  unsocial,  though  I  live  in 
solitude  ;  I  left  the  world,  because  I  was  ill-used  in  it,  and  happen 
to  think  very  differently  from  the  generality  of  men."  Here 
MONCTON  ended  his  story,  and  a  little  after  we  parted. 

I  rode  on  for  six  hours  without  meeting  with  any  thing  remark- 
able, but  as  I  baited  about  three  o'clock  at  a  lone  inn,  the  situa- 
tion of  which  was  so  fine  in  forest  and  water,  that  I  determined 
to  go  no  farther  that  day,  there  arrived  a  little  after,  a  young 
lady,  her  maid,  and  two  men  servants.  They  were  all  well- 
mounted,  and  the  lady's  beast  in  particular,  as  great  a  beauty  of  its 
kind,  as  its  mistress  was  among  women.  I  thought  I  had  seen 
the  face  before,  and  had  been  somewhere  or  other  in  her  com- 
pany ;  but  as  it  must  have  been  several  years  ago,  her  face  and 
person  were  a  little  altered,  and  I  could  not  immediately  recollect 
her  ;  but  FIN,  my  lad,  coming  up  to  me,  asked  me,  if  I  did  not 
remember  Miss  TURNER  of  Skelsmore-vale  ?  "Miss  TURNER," 
said  I,  "  to  be  sure,  now  I  think,  it  is  she  ;  but  this  lady  just  ar- 
rived here  is  much  fatter,  and,  if  it  be  possible,  something  hand- 
somer." "  It  is  her;  believe  me,"  quoth  FIN,  "  and  you  ought  to 
wait  upon  her  instantly."  I  went.  It  was  Miss  TURNER,  one  of 
the  beauties  that  adorn  a  gallery  of  pictures  in  the  North  ;  and 
who  is  with  great  truth  in  the  following  lines  described,  in  a  Poem 
written  on  this  collection  of  paintings. 

"  But  see  !  Emilia  rises  to  the  sight 

In  every  virtue,  in  every  beauty  bright  ! 

See  those  victorious  eyes,  that  heavenly  mien  ! 

Behold  her  shine  like  Love's  resistless  Queen  ! 

Thou  fairest  wonder  of  thy  fairest  kind  ! 

By  heav'n  some  image  of  itself  design'd  ! 

As  if  in  thee  it  took  peculiar  care, 

And  form'd  thee  like  some  fav'rite  seraph  there. 

But  tho'  thy  beauty  strikes  the  ravish'd  sight, 

Thy  virtues  shine  distinguishingly  bright ! 

And  all  the  graces  of  thy  form  combin'd, 

Yield  to  the  charms  of  thy  unblemish'd  mind ; 

Where  all  is  spotless,  gentle,  and  serene, 

One  calm  of  life  untouch'd  by  guilt  or  pain  ' 

Could  I  in  equal  lays  thy  worth  design, 

Or  paint  exalted  merit  such  as  thine  ! 

To  latest  ages  should  thy  name  survive, 

And  in  my  verse  Emilia  ever  live  ; 

Th'  admiring  world  should  listen  to  thy  praise, 

And  the  fair  portrait  charm  succeeding  days." 

This  lady  knew  me  at  once,  on  my  entering  the  room  where  she 
was,  and  we  dined  together.  She  told  me,  her  brother,  my  friend, 
died  in  Italy,  on  his  return  home  ;  and  Miss  JAQUELOT,  her  cousin 
and  companion,  was  happily  married  ;  and  that  being  thus  left 
alone,  by  these  two  accidents,  she  was  going  up  to  London,  to 
reside  in  the  world. 


3*8  THE  LIFE  OF 


"  Miss  TURNER,"  said  I,  "as  you  are  now  your  own  mistress, 
I  may  with  justice  tender  you  my  addresses,  and  tell  you,  that 
from  the  first  hour  I  saw  you,  I  was  in  love  with  you,  and  am  so 
still ;  that  if  you  will  do  me  the  honour  to  be  my  wife,  I  will  make 
the  best  of  husbands.  I  have  now  some  fortune,  and  if  you  will 
allow,  that  an  honest  man  is  the  best  companion  for  an  honest 
woman,  let  us  marry  in  the  country,  and  instead  of  going  up  to 
that  noisy  tumultuous  place  London,  retire  to  some  still  delight- 
ful retreat,  and  there  live,  content  with  each  other,  as  happy  as  it 
is  possible  for  two  young  mortals  to  be  in  this  lower  hemisphere. 
What  do  you  say,  Miss  TURNER  ?  " 

"  You  shall  have  my  answer,  sir,  in  a  few  days  ;  but  as  to  going 
up  to  London,  I  think  I  had  best  see  it,  since  I  am  come  so  far. 
It  may  give  me  a  new  relish  for  still  life,  and  make  the  country 
seem  more  charming  than  I  thought  it  before.  On  the  other 
hand,  it  may  perhaps  make  me  in  love  with  the  town,  and  put  me 
out  of  conceit  with  the  country.  In  short,  on  second  thoughts,  I 
will  not  go  up  to  the  capital.  I  will  return  to  Skelsmore-vale.  I 
think  so  now  ;  but  how  I  may  think  in  the  morning,  at  present 
I  do  not  know.  In  the  mean  time,'1  she  continued,  "  ring,  if  you 
please,  for  a  pack  of  cards,  and  let  us  pass  the  evening  in  play. 
The  cards  were  brought  in,  the  game  began,  and  before  we  had 
played  many  hours,  I  saw  this  dear  charming  creature  was  all 
my  own.  She  sat  before  me,  like  blushing  beauty  in  the  picture 
in  the  gallery  of  Venus,  enriched  with  thought,  warm  with  desire, 
and  with  delicate  sensations  covered  over  :  I  could  not  help  wish- 
ing for  father  FLEMING,  my  friend,  to  qualify  us  for  the  implanted 
impulse,  and  sanctify  the  call.  Early  the  next  morning  I  sent 
FIN  for  him,  and  he  was  with  me  in  a  few  days.  The  evening  he 
arrived  we  were  married.  Man  and  wife  we  sat  down  to  supper. 

Here  the  morose,  the  visionary,  and  the  dunce,  will  again  fall 
upon  me,  for  marrying  a  fifth  wife,  so  quickly  after  the  decease 
of  the  fourth,  who  had  not  been  three  months  in  her  grave  ;  but 
my  answer  is,  that  a  dead  woman  is  no  wife,  and  marriage  is 
ever  glorious.  It  is  the  institution  of  heaven,  a  blessing  to  society, 
and  therefore  hated  by  the  devil  and  mass-priests.  Satan  by 
opposing  it,  promotes  fornication  and  perdition.  The  priests  by 
preaching  against  it,  drive  the  human  race  into  cloisters  ;  destroy 
every  thing  gentle,  generous,  and  social ;  and  rob  the  people  of 
their  property.  Celibacy  is  popery  and  hell  in  perfection.  It  is 
the  doctrine  of  devils,  and  a  war  with  the  Almighty,  It  is  against 
the  institutions  of  nature  and  providence  ;  and  therefore,  for 
ever  execrable  be  the  memory  of  the  mass-priests,  who  dare  to 
call  it  perfection. 

My  dear  Reader,  if  you  are  unmarried,  and  healthy,  get  a  wife 
as  soon  as  possible,  some  charming  girl,  or  pretty  widow,  adorned 
with  modesty,  robed  with  meekness,  and  who  has  the  grace  to 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  389 

attract  the  soul,  and  heighten  every  joy  continually  ;  take  her 
to  thy  breast,  and  bravely,  in  holy  wedlock,  propagate.  Despise 
and  hiss  the  mass-priests,  and  every  visionary,  who  preaches  the 
contrary  doctrine.  They  are  foes  to  heaven  and  mankind,  and 
ought  to  be  drummed  out  of  society. 

For  six  weeks  after  our  marriage,  we  resided  at  the  inn,  on 
account  of  the  charms  of  the  ground,  and  seemed  to  be  in  posses- 
sion of  a  lasting  happiness  it  is  impossible  for  words  to  describe. 
Every  thing  was  so  smooth  and  so  round,  that  we  thought  pros- 
perity must  be  our  own  for  many  years  to  come,  and  were  quite 
secure  from  the  flames  of  destruction  ;  but  calamity  laid  hold  of 
us,  when  we  had  not  the  least  reason  to  expect  it,  and  from  a  ful- 
ness of  peace  and  felicity,  we  sunk  at  once  into  an  abyss  of  afflic- 
tions. Instead  of  going  back  to  Skelsmore-vale,  as  we  had  re- 
solved, my  wife  would  go  up  to  London,  and  pass  a  few  weeks 
there,  and  thereabout,  before  she  retired  to  the  mountains.  I  was 
against  it,  but  her  will  was  my  law.  We  set  out  for  the  capital, 
and  the  first  day's  journey  was  delightful :  but  her  fine  beast 
having  met  with  an  accident  in  the  night,  by  a  rope  in  the  stable, 
which  got  about  its  foot,  cut  it  deep,  and  rendered  it  unable  to 
travel ;  we  took  a  chariot  and  four  to  finish  our  way,  but  on 
driving  by  the  side  of  a  steep  hill,  the  horses  took  fright,  ran  it 
down,  overcame  the  carriage,  and  my  charmer  was  killed.  This 
was  a  dismal  scene.  She  lived  about  an  hour,  and  repeated  the 
following  fine  lines  from  Boissard,  when  she  saw  me  weeping  as  I 
kneeled  on  the  ground  by  her, 

Nil  prosunt  lacrumae,  nee  possunt  fata  moyeri : 

Nee  pro  me  queror  ;  hoc  morte  mihi  est  tristius  ipsa, 

Moeror  Atimeti  conjugis  ille  mihi.* 

*  These  lines  from  the  Antiquities  of  Boissard,  are  a  real  inscription  on  a  tomb  in  Italy, 
which  this  antiquary  found  in  his  travels,  and  copied  it  as  a  curiosity  to  the  world. 
Homonoea  was  a  great  beauty  at  the  court  of  the  Emperor  Honorius,  and  married  to 
Atimetus,  a  courtier  and  favourite,  who  preferred  her  to  the  most  illustrious  of  ladies  of  that 
time,  on  account  of  her  extraordinary  charms,  and  uncommon  perfections  ;  but  she  did  not  long 
enjoy  the  honour  and  happiness  she  was  married  into.  Before  she  was  twenty,  death  snatched 
her  away,  in  the  year  of  the  reign  of  Honorius,  A.D.  401,  and  the  following  beautiful  epitaph 
was  cut  on  her  monument,  and  remains  to  this  day ;  I  place  it  here  for  the  entertainment 
of  my  readers,  and  likewise  La  Fontaine's  elegant  translation  of  it. 

HOMONCEA'S  EPITAPH. 

Si  pensare  animas  sinerent  crudelia  fata, 
Et  posset  redimi  morte  aliena  salus  : 
Quantulacunque  meae  debentur  tempora  vitas 
Pensarem  pro  te,  cara  Homonoea,  libens. 
At  nunc  quod  possum,  fugiam  lucemque  deosque, 
Ut  te  matura  per  stuga  morte  sequar. 
(Atimetus  the  husband,  {s  the  speaker  of  these  six  lines.) 

Parce  tuam  conjux  fletu  quassare  juventam. 
Fataque  merendo  sollicitare  mea. 
Nil  prosunt  lacrumae,  nee  possunt  fata  moveri. 
Viximus :  hie  omnes  exitus  unus  habet. 


390  THE  LIFE  OF 


Just  as  she  expired,  she  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  with  the 
spirit  of  an  old  Roman,  bid  me  adieu. 

Parce,  ita  non  unquara  similem  experiare  dolorem. 
Et  faveant  votis  numina  cuncta  tuis ! 
Quodque  mihi  eripnit  mors  immatura  juventae, 
Hoc  tibi  victuro  proroget  ulterius. 

(Homoncea  is  supposed  to  speak  these  eight  lines,  to  her  husband :   and  then  relates  her  cast 
to  the  traveller,  who  is  passing  by.) 

Tu  qui  secura  procedis  mente  parumper 
Siste  gradum  quaeso,  verbaque  pauca  lege. 
Ilia  ego  quae  Claris  fueram  praelata  puellis, 
Hoc  Homoncea  brevi  condita  sum  tumulo, 
Cui  formam  paphia,  et  charites,  tribuere  decorem, 
Quam  Pallas  cunctis  artibus  eruduit. 
Nondum  bis  denos  aetas  compleverat  annos, 
Injecere  manus  invida  fata  mihi. 
Nee  pro  me  queror ;  hoc  morte  mihi  est  tristius  ipsa, 
Mceror  Atimeti  cpnjugis  ille  mihi. 
Sit  tibi  terra  levis,  mulier  dignissima  vita 
Quaeque  tuis  olim  perfruerere  bonis. 

(These  two  lines  may  be  the  words  of  the  Public,  or  of  whoever  erected  the  monument  to  the  memory 
of  Homonoea.) 

Now  see  how  finely  La  Fontaine  has  done  this  inscription  into  verse. 

Si  Ton  pouvoit  donner  ses  jours  pour  ceux  d'un  autre 
Et  que  par  cet  echange  on  conteutat  le  sort, 
Quels  que  soint  les  momens  qui  me  restent  encore 
Mop  ame,  ayec  plaisir,  racheteroit  la  votre. 
Mais  le  destin  1'ayant  autrement  arrete, 
Je  ne  sgaurois  qui  fuir  les  dieux  et  la  clarte, 
Pour  vous  suivre  aux  enfers  d'une  mort  avancee. 
Quittez,  6  chere  epoux,  cette  triste  pensee, 
Vous  alterez  en  vain  les  plus  beaux  de  vos  ans : 
Cessez  de  fatiguer  par  de  cris  impuissans, 
La  parque  et  le  destin,  deitez  inflexibles. 
Mettez  fin  a  des  pleurs  qui  ne  le  touchent  point ; 
J  e  ne  suis  plus :  tout  tent  a  ce  supreme  poinct. 
Ainsi  nul  accident,  par  des  coups  si  sensibles 
Ne  vienne  a  1'avenir  traverser  vos  plaisirs ! 
Ainsi  1'Olimpe  entier  s'accorde  a  vos  desirs ! 
Veiiille  enfin  atropos,  au  cours  de  votre  vie 
Ajouter  1'etendue  a  la  mienne  ravire ! 
Et  toy,  passant  tranquille,  apprens  quels  sont  nos  maux, 
Daigne  icy  t'arreter  un  moment  a  les  lire, 
Celle  qui  preferee  aux  partis  les  plus  hauts, 
Sur  le  ceur  d'Atimete  acquk  un  doux  empire ; 
Qui  tenoit  de  Venus  la  beaute  de  ses  traits, 
De  Pallas  son  s?avoir,  des  graces  ses  attraits, 
Gist  sous  ce  peu  d'espace  en  la  tombe  enserrde, 
Vingt  soleUs  n'avoient  pas  ma  carriere  eclaires, 
Le  sort  jetta  sur  mois  ses  envieuses  mains : 
C'est  Atimete  seul  qui  fait  que  je  m'en  plains, 
Ma  mort  m'afflige  moins  que  sa  douleur  amere. 
O  femme,  que  la  terre  a  tes  os  soit  legere  ? 
Femme  digne  de  viyre ;  et  bientot  pusses  tu 
Recommencer  de  yoir  les  traits  de  la  lumieres, 
Et  recouvrer  le  bien  que  ton  ceur  a  perdu. 

Or  thus  in  prose. 

S'il  suffisoit  aux  destins  qu'on  donat  sa  vie  pour  celle  d'un  autre,  et  qu'il  fut  possible  de 
racheter  ainsi  ce  que  Ton  ayme,  quelque  soit  le  nombre  d'annees  que  les  parques  m'ont 
accorde,  je  le  donnerois  avec  plaisir  pour  vous  tirer  de  tombeau,  ma  chere  Homonee ;  mais 
cela  nesepouvant.ee  que  je  puis  faire  est  de  fuir  le  jour  et  la  presence  de  dieux,  pour  aller 
bientot  vous  suivre  le  long  au  Styx. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  391 

Can  you  form  any  idea,  Reader,  of  the  distress  I  was  then  in  ? 
It  is  not  possible  I  think  unless  you  have  been  exactly  in  the  same 
situation  ;  unless  you  loved  like  me,  and  have  been  as  miserably 
separated  from  as  charming  a  woman.  But  it  was  in  vain  for  me 
to  continue  lamenting.  She  was  gone  for  ever,  and  lay  as  the  clod 
of  the  valley  before  me.  Her  body  I  deposited  in  the  next  church- 
yard, and  immediately  after,  rode  as  fast  as  I  could  to  London,  to 
lose  thought  in  dissipation,  and  resign  the  better  to  the  decree. 
For  some  days  I  lived  at  the  inn  I  set  up  at,  but  as  soon  as  I  could, 
went  into  a  lodging,  and  it  happened  to  be  at  the  house  of  the 
famous  EDMUND  CURLL  the  bookseller  ;  a  man  well  known  in 
Pope's  Dunciad,  and  his  Letters  to  his  Friends,  on  account  of 

p  mon  chere  epoux,  cessez  de  vous  affliger ;  ne  corrompez  plus  le  fleurs  de  vos  ans ;  ne 
fatiguez  plus  ma  destinee  par  de  plaintes  continuelles  toutes  les  larmes  sont  icy  vaines  ; 
on  ne  sauroit  emouvoir  la  parque :  me  voila  morte,  chacun  arrive  a  ce  terme  la.  Cessei 
done  encore  un  fois  :  ainsi  puissiez-vous  ne  sentir  jamais  une  semblable  douleur !  Ainsi 
qus  les  dieux  soient  favorable  a  vos  souhaits  !  Et  veiiille  la  parque  ajouter  a  vdtre  vie  ce 

Et  toy^yi  a  la  mienne. 
ce  peu  de  motb.-^es  tranquillement,  arretd  icy  je  te  prie  un  moment  ou  deux,  afin  de  lire 

Moy,  cette  Homone*- 

donna  la  beaute,  les  graces  c^oferra  Atimete  a  de  filles  considerables ;  moy  a  qui  Venus 
arts,  me  voila  icy  renfermee  dans  u^r,ens  ;  que  Pallas  enfin  avoit  instruite  dans  tous  les 
vingt  ans  quand  le  sort  jetta  ses  mains  env«~x>nt  de  peu  d'espace.  Je  n'avois  pas  encore 
que  je  m'en  plains,  c'est  pour  mon  man,  de  qui  ia  -^a  personne.  Ce  n'est  pas  pour  moy 
ma  propre  mort,  -p'est  difficile  a  supporter  que 

Que  la  terre  te  soit  legere,  6  epouse  digne  de  retoumer  a  la  vie, 
qu«  tu  a  perdu  !  -ouvrer  un  jour 

The  legend  on  the  monument  of  Homoncea,  translated  into  English. 
Atimetus. 

If  it  was  allowed  to  lay  down  one's  life  for  another,  and  possible  by  such  means,  to  save 
what  we  loved  from  the  grave,  whatever  length  of  days  was  allotted  me,  I  would  with  pleasure 
offer  up  my  life,  to  get  Homoncea  from  the  tomb  ;  but  as  this  cannot  be  done,  what  is  in 
my  power  I  will  do,  fly  from  the  light  of  heaven,  and  follow  you  to  the  realms  of  lasting 
night. 

Homoncea. 

My  dearest  Atimetus,  cease  to  torment  your  unhappy  mind,  nor  let  grief  thus  feed  on  your 
youth,  and  make  life  bitterness  itself.  I  am  gone  in  the  way  appointed  for  all  the  mortal 
race :  all  must  be  numbered  with  the  dead.  And  since  fate  is  inexorable,  and  tears  are  in 
vain,  weep  not  for  me,  once  more  I  conjure  you.  But  may  you  be  ever  happy,  may  Providence 
preserve  you,  and  add  to  your  life  those  years  which  have  been  taken  from  mine. 

The  person  who  erected  the  monument  to  the  memory  of 
Homoncea. 

Stop,  traveller,  for  a  few  minutes,  and  ponder  on  these  lines. 

Here  lies  Homonoea,  whom  Atimetus  preferred  to  the  greatest  and  most  illustrious  women 
of  his  time.  She  had  the  form  of  Venus,  the  charms  of  the  graces ;  and  an  understanding 
and  sensibility,  which  demonstrated  that  wisdom  had  given  to  an  angel's  form,  a  mind 
more  lovely.  Before  she  was  twenty,  she  was  dissolved.  And  as  she  had  practised  righteous- 
ness, by  carrying  it  well  to  those  about  her,  and  to  all  that  were  specially  related,  she  parted 
with  them,  as  she  had  lived  with  them,  in  justice  and  charity,  in  modesty  and  submission, 
in  thankfulness  and  peace.  Filled  with  divine  thoughts,  inured  to  contemplate  the  perfec- 
tions of  God,  and  to  acknowledge  his  providence  in  all  events,  she  died  with  the  humblest 
resignation  to  the  divine  will,  and  was  only  troubled  that  she  left  her  husband  a  mourner. 
Excellent  Homoncea. 

May  the  earth  lie  light  upon  thee,  and  in  the  morning  of  the  resurrection,  may  you  awake 
again  to  life,  and  rise  to  that  immortality,  and  glory,  which  God,  the  righteous  J  udge,  will 
give  to  true  worth  and  dignity  ;  as  rewards  to  a  life  adorned  with  all  virtues  and  excellencies, 
the  dikaiomata,  that  is,  the  righteous  acts  of  the  Saints. 


392  THE  LIFE  OF 


CURLL'S  frauds  in  purchasing  and  printing  stolen  copies  of  Pope's 
Works.  It  is  in  relation  to  these  tricks,  that  Pope  mentions 
CURLL  in  his  Dunciad  and  Letters.  A  succinct  history  of  him  I 
shall  here  give  :  but  had  I  complied  with  his  requests,  it  would 
have  been  a  long  relation,  to  the  advantage  and  glory  of  this 
extraordinary  man  :  for  he  came  one  morning  into  my  closet,  with 
an  apron  full  of  papers  ;  being  letters,  memorandums,  parodies, 
and  notes,  written  by  or  concerning  himself  ;  and  requested  I 
would,  on  a  good  consideration,  write  his  life,  to  his  profit,  and 
honour,  and  make  it  a  five  shilling  book.  That  I  said  was  not  then 
in  my  power  to  do  ;  but  I  would,  one  time  or  another,  give  the 
public  a  true  account  of  him,  and  make  it  conclude  I  hoped  to  the 
glory  of  his  character.  Here  it  is. 

EDMUND  CURLL  was  in  person  very  tall  and  thin,  an  ungainly, 
awkward,  white-faced  man.  His  eyes  were  a  light-grey,  large, 
projecting,  goggle,  and  pur-blind.  He  was  splay-footed,  *»*-•* 
baker-kneed.  „  acquainted 

He  had  a  good  natural  understanding,  and  3£T£ed  well  on  some 
with  more  than  the  title  pages  of  boofe  ROwe  represents  him  in 
subjects.  He  was  not  an  infect,  afterwards  Dutchess  of  Somer- 
one  of  her  letters  to  la^-quite  evident  to  him,  that  the  scriptures 
set.  He  told  ffe'w  Testament  contained  a  real  revelation.  There 
of  the  Qtf  rational,  a  natural,  a  traditionary,  and  a  supernatural 
J5sfimony  ;  which  rendered  it  quite  certain  to  him,  He  said,  he 
no  more  doubted  the  truth  of  the  Christian  religion,  than  he  did 
the  existence  of  an  independent  supreme  Creator ;  but  he  did  not 
believe  the  expositions  given  by  the  divines.  So  far  CURLL  was 
right  enough.  His  fault  was,  that  with  such  a  belief,  he  took  no 
pains  with  his  heart.  Trusting  entirely  to  the  merits  of  the 
Saviour,  like  too  many  other  mistaken  Christians,  he  had  no  notion 
of  religion  as  an  invisible  thing  within  us,  called  the  kingdom  of 
God :  he  did  not  even  consider  it  as  a  good  outside  thing,  that 
recommends  a  man  to  his  fellow-creatures.  He  was  a  debauchee 
to  the  last  degree,  and  so  injurious  to  society,  that  by  filling  his 
translations  with  wretched  notes,  forged  letters,  and  bad  pictures, 
he  raised  the  price  of  a  four  shilling  book  to  ten.  Thus,  in  par- 
ticular, he  managed  Burnet's  Archeology  :  and  when  I  told 
him  he  was  very  culpable  in  this,  and  other  articles  he  sold,  his 
answer  was,  What  would  I  have  him  do  ?  He  was  a  bookseller. 
His  translators  in  pay,  lay  three  in  a  bed,  at  the  Pewter- Platter  Inn 
in  Holborn,  and  he  and  they  were  for  ever  at  work,  to  deceive  the 
Public.  He  likewise  printed  the  lewdest  things.  He  lost  his  ears 
for  The  Nun  in  her  Smock,  and  another  thing.  As  to  drink,  he 
was  too  fond  of  money,  to  spend  any  in  making  himself  happy 
that  way  ;  but  at  another's  expence,  he  would  drink  every  day 
till  he  was  quite  blind,  and  as  incapable  of  self-motion  as  a  block. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  393 

This  was  EDMUND  CURRL,  but  he  died  at  last,  as  great  a  penitent, , 
as  ever  expired.     I  think  in  1748,  I  mention  this  to  his  glory. 

As  CURLL  knew  the  world  well,  and  was  acquainted  with  several 
extraordinary  characters,  he  was  of  great  use  to  me  at  my  first 
coming  to  town,  as  I  knew  nobody,  nor  any  place.  He  gave  me 
the  true  characters  of  many  I  saw,  told  me  whom  I  should  avoid, 
and  with  whom  I  might  be  free.  He  conducted  me  to  the  play- 
houses, and  gave  me  a  judicious  account  of  every  actor.  He 
understood  those  things  well.  No  man  could  talk  better  on 
theatrical  subjects.  He  took  me  likewise  to  Sadler's  Wells,  to 
the  night-cellars,  and  to  TOM  KING'S,  the  famous  night-house  in 
Covent  Garden.  As  he  was  very  knowing,  and  well-known  at  such 
places,  he  soon  made  me  as  wise  as  himself  in  these  branches  of 
learning  ;  and,  in  short,  in  the  space  of  a  month,  I  was  as  well 
acquainted  in  London,  as  if  I  had  been  there  for  years.  My  kind 
preceptor  spared  no  pains  in  lecturing. 

But  what  of  all  things  I  thought  most  wonderful  was  the  com- 
pany I  saw  at  the  Sieur  CURLL'S.  As  he  was  intimate  with  all  the 
high  whores  in  town,  many  of  them  frequented  his  shop,  to  buy  his 
dialogues,  and  other  lively  books.  Some  of  these  girls  he  often 
asked  to  dine  with  him,  and  then  I  was  sure  to  be  a  guest.  Many 
very  fine  women  I  thereby  saw,  but  none  worth  mentioning,  till 
CAROLA  BENNET  arrived,  and  surprised  me  exceedingly.  Her 
mind  and  body  were  very  wonderful,  and  I  imagine  a  description 
of  her,  and  her  story  afterward  will  not  be  ungrateful  to  my 
readers. 

CAROLA  BENNET  was  at  this  time  in  the  two  and  twentieth  year 
of  her  age,  a  dazzling  beauty  in  the  height  of  life  and  vigour.  Her 
eyes  were  black  and  amazingly  fine,  her  mouth  charming,  her  neck 
and  breast  very  beautiful,  and  her  stature  was  just  what  it  ought 
to  be.  She  had  a  glow  of  health,  a  luscious  air,  and  a  bewitching 
vivacity  :  her  manners  were  wonderfully  winning,  and  the  tone 
of  her  voice  so  sweet  and  insinuating,  that  her  words  and 
looks  went  directly  to  the  heart.  She  had  read  many  books 
of  gaiety,  wit,  and  humour,  especially  the  French  ;  and  talked 
delightfully  on  such  subjects.  She  sang  to  perfection,  but  her 
conversation  was  too  free,  and  she  seemed  to  have  no  sense  of  any 
religion.  It  was  a  fine  entertainment  to  be  in  her  company,  as  I 
often  was,  yet  I  could  not  help  sighing,  to  see  so  many  perfections 
on  the  brink  of  everlasting  destruction.  This  young  lady  all  of 
a  sudden  disappeared,  CURLL  knew  not  what  was  become  of  her  ; 
but  as  I  rode  ten  years  after  through  Devonshire,  in  the  finest 
part  of  that  romantic  county,  I  saw  her  one  morning,  as  I  stopped 
to  water  my  horse  in  a  brook  that  ran  from  a  park,  sitting  on  a 
seat,  under  a  vast  beautiful  cedar  tree,  with  a  book  in  her  hand. 
I  thought  I  was  no  stranger  to  the  fine  face,  and  as  I  was  pretty 
near  to  her,  I  called  out,  and  asked,  if  she  was  not  Miss  BENNET  ? 


394  THE  LIFE  OF 


She  knew  me  at  once,  and  pointing  to  a  gate  that  was  only  latched 
desired  I  would  come  to  her.  I  went  and  found  she  was  the 
mistress  of  the  fine  seat  at  a  small  distance  off.  She  brought  me 
into  the  house,  would  not  suffer  me  to  stir  that  day,  and  told  me 
the  story  of  her  life.  I  think  it  worth  placing  here. 

CAROLA  BENNET  was  the  daughter  of  JOHN  BENNET,  Esq.  a 
Yorkshire  gentleman,  who  died  when  she  was  in  her  igih  year, 
and  left  her  in  the  care  of  her  aunt,  an  old  lady  who  was  outwardly 
all  saint,  and  within  a  devil.  This  CAROLA  knew  well,  and 
requested  her  father  to  get  another  guardian  for  her,  or  leave  her 
to  manage  herself  ;  for  Mrs.  HUNFLEET,  her  aunt,  was  far  from 
being  that  primitive  Christian  he  took  her  for,  and  so  great  a  miser, 
that  exclusive  of  all  her  other  vices,  her  avarice  alone  was  enough 
to  ruin  her  niece.  She  would  sacrifice  the  whole  human  race  for 
half  a  thousand  pounds.  But  all  his  daughter  said  was  in  vain. 
He  believed  his  sister  was  godliness  itself,  in  its  utmost  latitude 
and  extent ;  that  she  lived  a  continued  opposition  to  our  mortal 
enemies,  the  world,  sin,  and  the  devil ;  and  that  her  heart  was 
a  mere  magazine  of  universal  honesty,  probity  of  manners,  and 
goodness  of  life  and  conversation.  Integrity  and  rectitude,  and 
benevolence,  as  he  thought,  were  the  bright  criterions  of  her  soul. 
She  will  teach  you,  CAROLA,  to  fast  and  pray,  and  make  you  like 
herself,  a  perfect  saint. 

It  was  to  no  purpose  then  for  the  daughter  to  remonstrate,  she 
could  only  weep,  as  her  father  was  positive,  and  after  his  death 
was  obliged  to  go  home  with  Mrs.  HUNFLEET.  There,  as  she  ex- 
pected, she  had  too  much  of  the  outward  bodily  exercise  of 
religion,  every  thing  that  can  be  named  within  the  circle  of  ex- 
ternal worship  ;  such  as  public  and  private  services,  fastings, 
macerations,  bowings,  expanded  hands  and  lifted  eyes,  which 
Lord  Halifax  in  his  Advice  to  a  Daughter,  calls  "  the  holy  goggle  ;  " 
but  that  all  this  accompanied  the  internal  acts  of  the  old  woman's 
mind,  and  went  along  with  her  heart  and  soul,  CAROLA  had  reason 
to  doubt.  She  saw  it  was  but  outward  profession,  all  hypocrisy, 
that  her  life  belied  her  creed,  and  that  her  practice  was  a  renun- 
ciation of  the  Christian  religion.  This  appeared  to  be  the  case 
very  quickly.  The  aunt  sold  her  to  one  CANTALUPE  for  five 
hundred  pounds.  Under  pretence  of  taking  her  to  visit  a  friend, 
she  brought  her  to  a  private  bagnio,  or  one  of  those  houses  called 
convents. 

In  describing  a  London  convent,  it  is  but  proper  to  observe 
that  such  houses  stand  in  back  courts,  narrow  lanes,  or  in  the 
most  private  places,  and  seem  to  be  uninhabited,  as  the  front 
windows  are  seldom  opened,  or  like  some  little  friary,  where  a 
company  of  visionaries  reside  ;  but  within  are  elegantly  furnished, 
and  remarkable  for  the  best  wines.  The  woman  who  keep  the 
house  is  the  only  person  to  be  seen  in  them,  unless  it  be  sometimes, 


JOHN  BUNGLED  ESQ.  395 

that  a  high-priced  whore,  who  passes  for  the  gentlewoman's 
daughter,  by  accident  appears. 

In  these  brothels  the  Sieur  CURLL  was  well  known,  and  as  the 
wine  in  them  is  always  excellent,  but  a  shilling  a  bottle  dearer 
than  at  the  tavern,  and  one  sits  without  hearing  the  least  noise, 
or  being  seen  by  any  one,  I  have  often  gone  with  this  ingenious 
man  to  such  places,  on  account  of  the  purity  of  the  wine,  and  the 
stillness  of  the  house  ;  as  there  are  no  waiters  there,  nor  any  well- 
drest  hussies  to  come  in  the  way.  You  are  as  silent  as  in  a  cave  ; 
nor  does  a  woman  appear,  except  as  before  excepted,  unless  it  be 
by  appointment  at  this  kind  of  meeting-house,  as  such  places  may 
well  be  called  ;  for  there  not  seldom  does  many  a  married  woman 
meet  her  gallant.  One  evening  that  I  was  there  with  CURLL, 
there  came  in  the  wife  of  a  very  eminent  merchant,  a  lady  of  as 
excellent  a  character  as  any  in  the  world  ;  who  was  never  as 
much  as  suspected  by  any  of  her  acquaintance,  but  allowed  by 
every  body  to  be  a  woman  of  pure  morals  and  unspotted  chastity. 
She  came  in  first  with  a  black  mask  on  her  face,  from  her  chair,  and 
was  by  the  woman  of  the  house  shewn  into  a  chamber  up  stairs  ; 
half  an  hour  after,  there  was  another  soft  tap  at  the  door,  and  a 
gentleman  was  let  in,  who  was  shewed  up  to  the  chamber  the 
lady  was  in.  As  the  door  of  the  room  CURLL  and  I  were  sitting  in, 
happened  to  be  open  as  this  adventurer  passed  by,  I  knew  the 
man.  He  was  an  Irish  gentleman  of  large  fortune,  with  whom  I 
was  well  acquainted.  He  was  ever  engaged  in  amours,  and  was 
some  years  after  this  hanged  at  Cork,  for  ravishing  SALLY  SQUIBB, 
the  quaker.  His  name  then  can  be  no  secret,  but  as  to  the  lady's 
name,  I  shall  never  tell  it,  as  she  left  several  children,  who  are  now 
living  in  reputation  ;  but  only  observe,  that  there  are,  to  my 
knowledge,  many  women  of  such  strict  virtue  in  the  world.  If 
you  ask  me  reader,  how  I  came  to  know  who  she  was  ?  I  will  tell 
you.  As  she  came  down  stairs  in  a  mask  at  ten  at  night,  in  the 
manner  she  went  up,  I  concluded  she  was  a  married  woman  of 
distinction,  and  followed  her  chair,  when  it  went  off.  She  changed 
at  Temple  Bar,  and  then  took  a  hackney  coach,  which  drove 
beyond  the  Royal  Exchange  ;  I  followed  till  it  stopped  at  a  grand 
house,  into  which  she  went  without  a  mask,  and  had  a  full  view 
of  her  fine  face.  I  enquired  next  day  who  lived  in  the  house  I 
saw  her  go  into,  and  was  told  it  was  Mrs.  *****,  a  merchant  of  the 
greatest  repute.  Often  did  I  see  this  lady  after  this,  was  several 
times  in  her  company,  and  if  I  had  not  known  what  I  did,  should 
have  thought  her  a  woman  of  as  great  virtue  as  ever  lived.  There 
was  not  the  least  appearance  of  levity  or  indecency  in  her.  To 
all  outward  appearance,  she  was  chastity  and  discretion  in  flesh 
and  blood.  But  as  to  CAROLA  BENNET. 

Soon  after  her  aunt  and  she  arrived  at  Mrs,  Bedewell's,  in  came 
CANTALUPE  as  a  visitor,  and  after  tea,  they  went  to  cards.  Then 


396  THE  LIFE  OF 


followed  a  supper,  and  when  that  was  over,  they  gave  the  innocent 
Miss  BENNET  a  dose,  which  deprived  her  of  her  senses,  put  her  to 
bed,  and  in  the  morning  she  found  herself  ruined  in  the  arms  of 
that  villain  CANTALUPE.  Distraction  almost  seized  her,  but  he 
would  not  let  her  stir.  She  called,  but  no  one  came  near  to  her 
relief.  He  swore  a  million  of  oaths,  that  it  was  pure  love  made 
him  buy  her  of  her  aunt,  as  he  heard  she  was  going  to  marry 
another  man,  and  if  she  would  but  share  with  him  in  his  great 
fortune,  since  the  thing  was  done,  he  would,  by  every  sacred 
power  he  vowed,  marry  her  that  evening  or  the  next,  the  first  time 
they  went  out,  and  be  the  most  true  and  tender  husband  that  ever 
yet  appeared  in  the  world.  This,  and  the  situation  she  was  in, 
naked  and  clasped  in  his  strong  arms,  without  a  friend  to  aid  her, 
within  doors  or  without,  made  her  sensible  her  resentments  were 
in  vain,  and  that  she  had  better  acquiesce,  and  make  the  man  her 
husband,  if  she  could,  since  it  was  her  hard  fate,  and  that  in  all 
probability  she  might  conceive  from  the  transactions  of  the  night. 
This  made  her  have  done.  She  lay  as  he  requested  till  noon,  and 
hoped  he  would  prove  as  faithful  as  he  had  solemnly  swore  to  her. 

But  when  the  night  came,  an  indisposition  he  feigned,  made  him 
unable  to  stir  out  that  evening,  and  he  requested  the  idol  of  his 
heart,  whom  he  loved  more  than  life,  to  give  him  leave  to  defer 
it  till  the  next.  For  six  days  he  put  it  off  in  the  same  manner, 
during  which  time,  they  never  stirred  out  of  the  bagnio,  and  the 
seventh  day  he  left  her  fast  asleep  in  bed.  A  billet-doux  on  the 
dressing-table  informed  her,  that  he  was  obliged  to  set  out  that 
morning  for  France,  and  as  he  intended  to  be  back  in  a  few  months, 
he  hoped  she  would  not  think  him  faithless  at  once.  He  left  her 
a  hundred  pound  bank  note,  which  was  all  he  had  then  to  spare, 
as  he  had  paid  to  her  aunt  five  hundred  pounds  a  few  days  before. 

Thus  fell  the  beautiful  Miss  BENNET  by  the  treachery  of  her 
ever-cursed  aunt,  and  was  made  a  whore  very  much  against  her 
will.  The  aunt,  in  the  mean  time,  had  shut  up  her  house,  and  was 
gone  no  one  knew  where.  She  took  several  jewels  with  her,  and  a 
large  sum  of  money,  both  the  property  of  her  niece.  She  left  her 
but  little  of  her  fortune,  and  reported  every  where,  that  CAROLA 
was  gone  into  keeping  with  a  great  man,  and  had  before  been 
debauched  by  her  footman.  In  short,  all  that  could  be  done 
this  woman  did,  to  impoverish  and  defame  her  niece,  and  as  she 
had  passed  upon  the  world  for  a  praying,  virtuous  old  piece, 
her  reports  were  thought  so  true,  that  all  the  female  acquaintance 
Miss  BENNET  had,  laughed  at  the  story  she  told,  and  shunned 
her  as  a  foul  fiend.  She  was  banished  from  all  modest  company. 
They  considered  her  as  the  most  detestable  prostitute,  for  excusing 
herself,  they  said,  by  blackening  the  character  of  so  pious  and 
upright  a  woman  as  Mrs.  HUNFLEET,  her  aunt,  was. 

Thus  did  iniquity  ruin  and  triumph  over  innocence,   in  the 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  397 

mask  of  religion,  and  a  thousand  times,  to  my  own  knowledge, 
it  has  done  the  same  thing.      I  have  often  known  wretches 
pretend  to  seek  the  kingdom  of    God,   and  his  righteousness, 
in  the  first  place,  and  by  believing  all  the  monks  have  invented, 
by  constantly  attending  public  worship,  and  an  unnatural  kind 
of   sobriety,  pass   for    people  that  were   ready  and  willing  to 
suffer  every  thing   the    cause  of   God    and    truth   can    require 
from  rationals  ;    yet  these  holy  mortals  could  make  the  service 
of  God  not  only  stand  with  unwilh'ng  infirmities,  the  common 
case  of    the  best  humanity,  but  consist  with  wilful  and   pre- 
sumptuous sinning,  and    a   malevolence  as   great   as   the  devil 
had  against  our  first  parents.     A  minister  of   the  gospel,  who 
passed  for  an  admirable  man,  did  his  best  to  ruin  my  character 
for  ever  with  my  father.     One  of  the  holiest  men  in  the  world, 
cheated  me  of  a  thousand  pounds,  left  in  his  hands  for  my  use, 
for  fear  I  should  spend  it  myself.     And  a  rich  man,  commonly 
called  piety  and  goodness,  from  the  seeming  simplicity  of  his 
manners,  the  softness  of  his  temper,  and  the  holy  goggle  of  his 
eyes  in  his  public  devotion,  arrested  me  on  a  note  of  hand,  one- 
third  of  which  was  interest  thrown  into  the  principal,  and  made 
me  pay  interest  upon  interest,  without  mercy,  or  waiting  as  I 
intreated,  till  it  was  more  convenient.     Many  more  such  praying, 
sanctified  villains  I  could  mention,  in  respect  of  whom  EDMUND 
CURLL  was  a  cherubim,  fond  as  he  was  of  a  girl  and  a  flask.  CURLL 
owned  he  was  a  sinner,  and  that  he  was  led  by  thirst  and  repletion 
to  indulge  ;  but  the  hypocrites  with  professions  of  esteem  for  the 
pearl  of  great  price,  and  that  they  have  parted  with  their  Herodias, 
for  the  sake  of  eternal  life  ;   yet  wilfully  disobey  from  a  passion 
for  substance,  and  the  shrine  of  bright  Mammon  in  this  world 
has  a  greater  influence  on  their  souls  than  all  the  joys  of  an  ever- 
lasting heaven  to  come.     What  they  do  is  a  farce.     Upon  what 
they  have,  they  rest  their  all. 

But  as  to  Miss  BENNET,  in  this  sad  condition,  she  secreted 
herself  for  some  months  from  the  world,  and  notwithstanding  her 
constitution  and  taste,  intended  to  retire  among  the  mountains 
of  Wales,  and  live  upon  the  little  she  had  left ;  but  unfortunately 
for  so  good  a  design,  the  matchless  Sir  FREDERIC  DANCER  came 
in  her  way,  and  by  money,  and  the  force  of  love,  persuaded  her 
to  be  his  companion  while  he  lived,  which  was  but  for  a  short  time. 
A  young  nobleman  prevailed  on  her  next,  by  high  rewards,  to  be 
the  delight  of  his  life  for  a  time  ;  and  at  his  death,  she  went  to  the 
arms  of  an  Irish  peer.  She  had  what  money  she  pleased  from 
these  great  men,  and  being  now  very  rich,  she  determined,  on  the 
marriage  of  her  last  Lord,  to  go  into  keeping  no  more,  but  to  live 
a  gay  life  among  the  agreeable  and  grand.  She  had  lost  all  her 
notions  of  a  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth  to  come,  in  the  con- 
versation of  these  atheistical  men,  and  on  account  of  her  living 


398  THE  LIFE  OF 


as  happily  as  she  could  in  this  world.  What  religion  she  had 
remaining,  was  placed  in  giving  money  to  the  sick  and  poor, 
which  she  did  with  a  liberal  hand  ;  and  her  charity,  in  all  its 
charms,  she  often  shewed  to  the  most  deserving  men.  Those  who 
had  much  of  this  world's  goods  paid  dear,  but  she  had  compassion 
on  the  worthy,  though  they  could  not  drive  in  a  chariot  to  her 
door.  This  was  the  case  of  CAROLA,  when  I  saw  her  at  CURLL'S. 

But  all  of  a  sudden  she  disappeared,  and  no  one  could  tell  what 
was  become  of  her  ;  that  I,  however,  learned  from  herself,  when  I 
chanced  to  see  her  under  the  cedar  tree,  in  the  park,  as  before 
related. 

A  young  clergyman,  one  TENCH,  an  Irishman,  of  the  county  of 
Galway,  who  was  very  rich,  and  had  a  fine  seat  in  Devonshire, 
saw  her  at  the  opera,  and  fell  in  love  with  her.  He  soon  found 
out  who  she  was,  waited  upon  her,  and  offered  to  marry  her, 
if  she  would  reform.  At  first,  she  shewed  very  little  inclination 
to  a  virtuous  course,  and,  as  her  manner  was,  ridiculed  the  interest 
of  another  life.  The  blessedness  of  heaven  she  laughed  at,  and  made 
a  jest  of  riches,  honours,  and  pleasures  to  be  found  on  the  other  side 
the  grave.  This  did  not  however  dishearten  TENCH.  He  was  a 
scholar  and  a  man  of  sense,  and  as  he  loved  her  most  passionately, 
and  saw  she  had  a  fine  capacity,  he  was  resolved,  if  possible,  to 
reclaim  her,  by  an  appeal  to  her  bright  understanding. 

He  observed  to  her,  in  the  first  place,  as  she  informed  me,  that, 
exclusive  of  future  happiness,  godliness  was  profitable  in  all 
things,  that  is,  even  in  this  life,  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  in 
plenty  and  in  want,  in  peace  and  in  war,  in  confusion  and  security, 
in  health,  in  honour  and  disgrace,  in  life  and  in  death,  and  in  what 
condition  soever  we  may  be.  This  he  proved  to  her  satisfaction, 
and  made  it  plain  to  her  conception,  that  by  it  only  we  can 
acquire  a  right  judgment  of  persons  and  things,  and  have  a  just 
and  due  estimate  of  ourselves ;  that  unless  held  in  by  reason  and 
religion,  pleasure,  though  innocent  of  itself,  becomes  a  thing  of 
deadly  consequence  to  mortals  ;  and  if  we  do  not  use  it  in  due 
time,  place,  circumstance,  measure  and  limits,  it  necessarily 
involves  us  in  difficulties  and  troubles,  pain  and  infamy  ;  if  we 
stifle  the  grand  leading  principles,  reason  and  religion,  by  sin  and 
vice,  and  let  desire  and  inclination  range  beyond  bounds,  we 
must  not  only  plunge  into  various  woes  in  this  world,  but  as 
creatures  degenerated  below  the  beast,  become  the  contempt 
and  abhorrence  of  the  wise  and  honest.  To  this  sad  condition 
must  be  annexed  a  reflective  misery,  as  we  have  conscience  or 
reason,  that  will  examine,  now  and  then,  the  whole  procedure  of 
life,  do  all  we  can  to  prevent  it,  and  the  remorse  that  must  ensue, 
on  account  of  our  wretched  and  ridiculous  conduct,  is  too  bitter 
a  thing  for  a  reasonable  creature  to  acquire,  for  the  sake  of  illicit 
gratification  only  ;  and  this  becomes  the  more  grievous  in  re- 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  399 

flection,  as  pleasures  are  not  forbidden  by  religion,  but  allowed 
to  the  most  upright,  and  ordained  for  the  holy  service  of  God  to 
recruit  nature,  and  enliven  the  spirits ;  to  propagate  the  human 
species,  and  preserve  the  flame  of  love  in  the  married  state.  If 
there  was  then  no  other  life  but  this,  it  is  most  certainly  our 
interest  in  regard  to  fame  and  advantage,  to  be  governed  by 
reason  and  religion. 

And  if  we  are  not  to  be  annihilated  with  the  beast,  but  are  to 
answer  hereafter  for  what  we  have  done,  whether  it  be  good  or 
bad,  surely  the  main  business  of  life  should  be  to  govern  ourselves 
by  godliness,  that  is  to  be  Christians  in  our  principles,  holy  in  our 
conversation,  and  upright  in  our  behaviour.  If  the  gospel  be  true, 
as  has  been  proved  a  thousand  and  a  thousand  times,  by  the 
wisest  men  in  the  world,  to  the  confusion  and  silence  of  infidelity, 
and  the  Son  of  God  came  into  the  world,  not  to  make  Judea  the 
seat  of  absolute  and  universal  empire,  and  establish  a  temporal 
dominion  in  all  possible  pomp  and  magnificence,  as  the  Jews  most 
erroneously  and  ridiculously  fancied,  and  to  this  day  believe, 
but  to  prepare  greater  things  for  us  ;  to  relieve  us  from  the  power 
of  sin,  and  the  endless  and  unspeakable  miseries  of  the  life  which 
is  to  come  ;  to  propose  a  prize  far  more  worthy  of  our  expectations 
than  the  glories  of  civil  power,  and  to  secure  to  us  the  happiness 
both  of  soul  and  body  to  all  eternity,  in  the  kingdom  of  God  ; 
then  certainly,  in  regard  to  ourselves,  we  ought  to  attend  to  his 
heavenly  lessons,  and  turn  from  the  unlawful  enjoyments  of  this 
life,  to  the  endless  and  solid  happiness  of  a  future  state.  As  this 
is  the  case,  we  should  cherish  and  improve  a  faith  of  invisible 
things,  by  serious  and  impartial  consideration.  We  should  attend 
to  the  evidence  which  God  has  given  us  for  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
evidence  very  cogent  and  sufficient ;  and  then  shew  our  faith  by 
works  suited  to  the  doctrine  of  Christ ;  that  is,  by  recommending, 
the  practice  of  virtue,  and  the  worship  of  one  God,  the  Creator 
of  the  Universe. 

"  Consider  then,  Miss  BENNET,"  said  he,  "  that  you  stand  on 
the  brink  of  death,  resurrection,  and  judgment ;  and  it  is  time 
to  begin  by  serious  and  humble  enquiry  to  arrive  at  a  faith  of 
strength,  and  activity  ;  that  by  your  eminence  in  all  virtue  and 
holiness,  you  may  make  the  glorious  attempt  to  be  greatest  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  This  will  be  a  work  worthy  of  an  im- 
mortal Soul.  Nor  will  it  hinder  you  from  enjoying  as  much 
happiness  in  this  lower  hemisphere,  as  reason  can  desire.  For 
godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  promise  of  the  life 
that  now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come." 

"  Thus,"  continued  Miss  BENNET  that  was,  "  did  this  excellent 
young  clergyman  talk  to  me,  and  by  argument  and  reasoning 
in  the  gentlest  manner,  by  good  sense  and  good  manners,  made 
me  a  convert  to  Christianity  and  goodness.  He  snatched  me 


400  THE  LIFE  OF 


from  the  gulph  of  eternal  perdition,  and  from  the  realms  of  dark- 
ness, and  the  society  of  devils,  brought  me  into  the  kingdom  of 
the  Messiah.  To  make  me  as  happy  as  it  was  possible  even  in 
this  world,  he  married  me,  and  landed  me  in  this  charming  spot 
you  found  me  in.  For  seven  years,  we  lived  in  great  happiness, 
without  ever  stirring  from  this  fine  solitude,  and  since  his  death, 
I  have  had  no  inclination  to  return  to  the  world ;  I  have  one  lady 
for  my  companion,  an  agreeable  sensible  woman,  a  near  relation 
of  Mr.  TENCH'S,  and  with  her,  and  some  good  books,  and  three  or 
four  agreeable  neighbours,  have  all  the  felicity  I  care  for  in  this 
world.  When  you  saw  me  at  CURRL'S,  I  had  no  taste  for  any  thing 
but  the  comedy,  the  opera,  and  a  tale  of  La  Fontaine  ;  but  you 
found  me  with  a  volume  of  Tillotson  in  my  hand,  under  that 
aged  and  beautiful  cedar,  near  the  road  ;  and  in  those  sermons 
I  now  find  more  delight,  in  the  solemn  shade  of  one  of  those  fine 
trees,  than  ever  I  enjoyed  in  the  gayest  scenes  of  the  world. 
In  these  sweet  silent  walks  I  am  really  happy.  Riches  and  honour 
are  with  me,  yea  durable  riches  and  righteousness.  To  the 
blessings  of  time,  I  can  here  add  the  riches  of  expectation  and 
comfort,  the  riches  of  future  glory  and  happiness.  This  makes 
me  fond  of  this  fine  retreat.  In  contentment,  peace,  and  comfort 
of  mind,  I  now  live  ;  and  by  hearkening  to  the  commandments, 
my  peace  is  a  river." 

&  Here  Mrs.  TENCH  had  done,  and  I  was  amazed  beyond  ex- 
pression. This  charming  libertine  was  quite  changed.  It  was 
formerly  her  wont,  when  I  have  sat  an  evening  with  her  at  CURLL'S, 
to  make  a  jest  of  the  Christian  scheme,  to  laugh  at  the  devil  and 
his  flames  ;  her  life  was  all  pleasure,  and  her  soul  all  whim,  but 
when  I  saw  her  last,  she  was  serious,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  as  happy 
a  serenity  and  composure  of  mind,  as  ever  mortal  was  blessed 
with.  Even  her  eyes  had  acquired  a  more  sober  light,  and  in  the 
place  of  a  wild  and  luscious  air,  a  beautiful  modesty  appeared. 
And  now  to  what  shall  I  ascribe  this  astonishing  alteration  ? 
Shall  I  say  with  our  methodists  and  other  visionaries,  that  it  must 
be  owing  to  immediate  impulse,  and  proceeded  from  inward  im- 
pression of  the  Spirit  ?  No,  this  will  not  do.  It  was  owing 
clearly  to  the  word,  not  in-spoken,  but  taught  by  Christ  in  his 
gospel.  When  her  friend  TENCH  opened  the  New  Testament  to 
her,  her  good  understanding  inclined  her  to  hearken.  She  began 
to  consider,  she  pondered,  and  had  a  regard  to  the  gospel,  now 
laid  before  her,  by  that  sensible  and  excellent  young  clergyman. 
She  became  a  believer.  And  as  the  Apostle  says,  We  can  do  all 
things  through  Christ  who  strengthens  us  ;  that  is,  says  Dr.  Hunt, 
in  one  of  his  first  sermons,  through  the  directions  of  Christ,  and 
through  the  arguments  and  motives  of  the  Christian  doctrine. 
Well  said,  Hunt.  It  must  be  our  own  choice,  to  be  sure,  to  be  good 
and  virtuous.  So  far  as  men  are  passive,  and  are  acted  upon, 


JOHN  B UNCLE,  ESQ.  401 

they  are  not  agents.  Without  power  to  do  good  or  evil,  men 
cannot  be  moral  or  accountable  beings,  and  be  brought  into 
judgment,  or  receive  according  to  their  works. 

Dr.  Lardner,  in  his  excellent  Sermon  on  the  Power  and  Efficacy 
of  Christ's  Doctrine,  has  a  fine  observation  ;  would  any  say,  that 
the  necessity  of  immediate  and  particular  influences  from  Christ 
himself,  is  implied  in  this  context,  where  he  says  that  he  is  a  vine, 
and  his  disciples  branches,  and  that  their  bearing  fruit  depends  as 
much  upon  influences  from  him,  as  the  life  and  vigour  of  branches 
do  upon  the  sap  derived  from  the  root  of  the  tree?  It  would  be  easy 
to  answer,  that  the  argument  in  the  text  is  a  similitude,  not  literal 
truth.  Neither  is  Christ  literally  a  vine,  nor  are  his  disciples, 
strictly  speaking,  branches.  Men  have  a  reasonable,  intellectual 
nature,  above  animals  and  vegetables.  They  are  not  governed 
by  irresistible,  and  necessary,  or  mechanical  powers.  But  it  is 
sound  doctrine,  and  right  principles,  particularly  the  words  of 
Christ,  which  are  the  words  of  God,  that  are  their  life,  and  may, 
and  will,  if  attended  to,  powerfully  enable  them  to  promote  good 
works,  and  to  excel  and  persevere  therein." 

But  it  is  time  to  return  to  my  own  story.  While  I  lodged  at 
CURLL'S  two  Irish  gentlemen  came  to  see  me,  JEMMY  KING  an 
attorney,  and  that  famous  master  in  chancery,  who  debauched 
NELLY  HAYDEN  the  beai^y,  and  kept  her  several  years.  I  knew 
these  men  were  as  ^.  ,&  takes  as  ever  lived,  and  had  no  notion 
of  religion  ;  that  they  were  devoted  to  pleasure,  and  chased  away 
every  sober  thought  and  apprehension  by  company,  and  by  empty, 
vicious,  and  unmanly  pleasures.  The  voice  of  the  monitor  was 
lost,  in  the  confused  noise  and  tumult  of  the  passions,  but  I 
thought  they  had  honour  at  the  bottom,  according  to  the  common 
notion  of  it.  I  never  imagined  they  were  sharpers,  nor  knew, 
that  being  ruined  in  Ireland,  they  came  over  to  live  by  a  gaming 
table.  The  Doctor  especially,  I  thought,  was  above  ever  becoming 
that  kind  of  man,  as  he  had  a  large  estate,  and  the  best  education  ; 
always  kept  good  company  ;  and  to  appearance,  was  as  fine  a 
gentleman  as  ever  was  seen  in  the  world.  With  these  two  I 
dined,  and  after  dinner,  they  brought  me,  as  it  were,  out  of 
curiosity,  to  a  gaming  table,  they  had  by  accident  discovered, 
where  there  was  a  bank  kept  by  men  of  the  greatest  honour, 
who  played  quite  fair,  and  by  hazarding  a  few  guineas,  I  might 
perhaps,  as  they  did,  come  off  with  some  hundreds. 

On  entering  the  room,  I  saw  about  twenty  well-drest  men  sitting 
round  a  table,  on  which  lay  a  vast  heap  of  gold.  We  all  began  to 
play,  and  for  two  or  three  hours,  I  did  win  some  hundreds  of 
pounds  ;  the  Doctor  and  the  other  cheat,  his  friend,  seemed  to 
lose  a  large  sum  ;  but  before  morning  they  won  all  back  from  me, 
with  much  more  :  and  I  not  only  lost  what  I  had  then,  but  the 
thousands  I  had  gained  by  my  several  wives  ;  and  excepting  a 


\ 

402  THE  LIFE  OF 

few  pounds,  all  I  was  worth  in  the  world.  I  had  sold  my  wives' 
estates,  and  lodged  the  money  in  my  banker's  hands.  The  villains 
round  this  table  got  it  all,  and  my  two  Irishmen  were  not  to  be 
seen.  They  disappeared,  and  left  me  madly  playing  away  my 
all.  I  heard  no  more  of  them,  till  I  was  told  several  years  after, 
that  they  were  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  among  other  outlawed,  aban- 
doned, wicked  men,  where  they  drank  night  and  day,  according 
to  the  custom  of  the  place,  and  lived  in  defiance  of  God  and  man. 
There  these  two  advocates  of  impiety  dwelt  for  some  time,  and 
died  as  they  had  lived  •  enemies  to  all  good  principles,  and  friends 
to  a  general  corruption. 

As  to  the  well-drest  company  round  the  table,  they  went  off 
one  by  one,  and  left  me  alone  to  the  bitter  thought,  which  led 
me  to  reflect  on  what  I  was  some  hours  before,  by  what  I  then 
found  myself  to  be.  I  was  almost  distracted.  What  had  I  to 
do  with  play  ?  I  wanted  nothing.  And  now  by  villains,  with 
a  set  of  dice  that  would  deceive  the  devil,  I  am  undone.  By 
sharpers  and  false  dice  I  have  sat  to  be  ruined.  The  reflection 
numbed  my  senses  for  some  time  :  and  then  I  started,  became 
wild,  and  raved. 

This  transaction  made  me  very  thoughtful,  and  I  sat  within 
for  several  days,  thinking  which  way  to  turn.  CuRLLsawI  was 
perplexed,  and  on  his  asking  me  if  I  ha<^  n/it  with  any  misfortune, 
I  told  him  the  whole  case  ;  that  I  had  bxrt  o*ae  hundred  pounds 
left,  and  requested  he  would  advise  me  what  I  had  best  do.  To  do 
justice  to  everyone,  CURLL seemed  deeply  concerned,  and  after 
some  silence,  we  sat  over  a  bottle  at  a  Coffee-house,  he  bid  me  take 
notice  of  an  old  gentleman,  who  was  not  far  from  us.  "  That  is 
DUNK  the  miser,  who  lives  in  a  wood  about  twenty  miles  off.  He 
has  one  daughter,  the  finest  creature  in  the  universe,  and  who  is  to 
succeed  to  his  great  estate,whether  he  will  or  not,  it  being  so  settled 
at  his  marriage  ;  but  he  confines  her  so  much  in  the  country,  and 
uses  her  so  cruelly  every  way,  that  I  believe  she  would  run  away 
with  any  honest  young  fellow,  who  could  find  means  to  address 
her.  Know  then,"  continued  CuRLL/'that  I  serve  Mr.  DUNK  with 
paper,  pens,  ink,  wax,  pamphlets,  and  every  thing  he  wants  in  my 
way.  Once  a  quarter  of  a  year,  I  generally  go  to  his  country- 
house  with  such  things,  as  he  is  glad  to  see  me  sometimes  ;  or  if  I 
cannot  go  myself,  I  send  them  by  some  other  hand.  Next  week  I 
am  to  forward  some  things  to  him,  and  if  you  will  take  them,  I  will 
write  a  line  by  you  to  Miss  his  daughter,  recommend  you  to  her  for 
a  husband,  as  one  she  may  depend  on  for  honour  and  truth.  She 
knows  I  am  her  friend,  and  who  can  tell,  but  she  may  go  off  with 
you.  She  will  have  a  thousand  a  year,  when  the  wretch  her  father 
dies,  if  he  should  leave  his  personal  estate  another  way." 

This  thought  pleased  me  much,  and  at  the  appointed  time,  away 
I  went  to  Mr.  DUNK'S  country-house  with  a  wallet  full  of  things, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ  403 

and  delivered  CURLL'S  letter  to  Miss.  As  soon  as  she  had  read  it,  I 
began  my  address,  and  in  the  best  manner  I  could,  made  her  an 
offer  of  my  service,  to  deliver  her  from  the  tyrant  her  father.  I 
gave  her  an  account  of  a  little  farm  I  had  on  the  borders  of  Cum- 
berland, a  purchase  I  had  made,  on  account  of  the  charms  of  the 
ground,  and  a  small  pretty  lodge  which  stood  in  the  middle  of  it, 
by  a  clump  of  old  trees,  near  a  murmuring  stream  ;  that  if  she 
pleased,  I  would  take  her  to  that  sweet,  silent  spot,  and  enable  her 
to  live  in  peace,  with  contentment  and  tranquillity  of  mind  ; 
though  far  away  from  the  splendours  and  honours  of  the  world, 
and  considering,  that  a  Christian  is  not  to  conform  to  the  world,  or 
to  the  pomps  and  vanities  of  it ;  its  grand  customs  and  usages  ; 
its  dress  and  entries  ;  its  stage  representations  and  masquerades, 
as  they  minister  to  vice,  and  tend  to  debauch  the  manners  ;  but 
are  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  beings  of  another  world,  and  to  form 
our  minds  with  these  spiritual  principles  ;  it  follows  then,  I  think, 
that  a  pleasing  country  situation  for  a  happy  pair  must  be  grateful 
enough.  There  peace  and  love  and  modesty  may  be  best  pre- 
served ;  the  truth  and  gravity  of  our  religion  be  strictly  main- 
tained, and  every  lawful  and  innocent  enjoyment  be  for  ever  the 
delights  of  life.  Away  from  the  idle  modes  of  the  world,  perpetual 
love  and  unmixed  joys  may  be  our  portion,  through  the  whole  of 
our  existence  here  ;  and  the  inward  principles  of  the  heart  be  ever 
laudable  and  pure.  So  will  our  happiness  as  mortals  be  stable, 
subject  to  no  mixture  or  change  ;  and  when  called  away  from  this 
lower  hemisphere,  have  nothing  to  fear,  as  we  used  this  world,  as 
though  we  used  it  not ;  as  we  knew  no  gratifications  and  liberties 
but  what  our  religion  allows  us,  as  our  enjoyments  will  be  but  the 
necessary  convenience  and  accommodation,  for  passing  from  this 
world  to  the  realms  of  eternal  happiness.  Follow  me  then,  Miss 
DUNK  ;  I  will  convey  you  to  a  scene  of  still  life  and  felicity,  great 
and  lasting  as  the  heart  of  woman  can  wish  for. 

The  charming  AGNES  seemed  not  a  little  surprised  at  what  I  had 
said,  and  after  looking  at  me  very  earnestly  for  a  minute  or  two, 
told  me,  she  would  give  me  an  answer  to  Mr.  CURLL'S  letter  in  less 
than  half  an  hour,  which  was  all  she  could  say  at  present,  and  with 
it  I  returned  to  give  him  an  account  of  the  reception  I  had. 
"  It  will  do,"  said  he,  after  he  had  read  the  letter  I  brought 
him  from  Miss  DUNK,  but  you  must  be  my  young  man  for  a  week  or 
two  more,  and  take  some  more  things  to  the  same  place.  He  then 
shewed  me  the  letter,  and  I  read  the  following  lines  : — 
"  SIR, 

"  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  you  for  your  concern  about  my 
happiness  and  liberty,  and  will  own  to  you,  that  in  my  dismal 
situation,  I  would  take  the  friend  you  recommend,  for  a  guide 
through  the  wilderness,  if  I  could  think  his  heart  was  as  sound  as 
his  head.  If  his  intentions  were  as  upright  as  his  words  are  fluent 


404  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  good,  I  need  not  be  long  in  pondering  on  the  scheme  he  pro- 
posed.    But  can  we  believe  him  true  as  Lucinda  says  in  the  play  ? 

The  sunny  hill,  the  flowr'y  vale, 
The  garden  and  the  grove, 

Have  echo'd  to  his  ardent  tale, 
And  vows  of  endless  love. 

The  conquest  gain'd,  he  left  his  prize. 
He  left  her  to  complain, 

To  talk  of  joy  with  weeping  eyes, 
And  measure  time  by  pain. 

To  this  CURLL  replied  in  a  circumstantial  manner,  and  vouched 
very  largely  for  me.  I  delivered  his  letter  the  next  morning,  when 
I  went  with  some  acts  of  parliament  to  old  DUNK  and  I  found  the 
beauty,  his  daughter,  in  a  rosy  bower ;  Simplex  munditiis,  neat  and 
clean  as  possible  in  the  most  genteel  undress  ;  and  her  person  so 
vastly  fine,  her  face  so  vastly  charming  ;  that  I  could  not  but 
repeat  the  lines  of  Otway  : — 

Man  when  created  first  wander'd  up  and  down, 
Forlorn  and  silent  as  his  vassal  brutes  ; 
But  when  a  heav'n-born  maid,  like  you  appear' d, 
Strange  pleasures  fill'd  his  soul,  unloos'd  his  tongue, 
And  his  first  talk  was  love. 

I  said  much  upon  the  occasion,  we  became  well  acquainted  that 
day,  as  her  father  had  got  a  disorder  that  obliged  him  to  keep  his 
bed,  and  by  the  time  I  had  visited  her  a  month  longer,  under 
various  pretences  of  business  invented  by  the  ingenious  CURLL, 
AGNES  agreed  to  go  off  with  me,  and  commit  herself  entirely  to  my 
care  and  protection.  But  before  I  relate  this  transaction,  I  think  it 
proper  to  give  my  readers  the  picture  of  this  lady  ;  and  then  an 
apology  for  her  flying  away  with  me,  with  whom  she  was  but  a 
month  acquainted. 

AGNES  in  her  person  was  neither  tall  nor  thin,  but  almost  both, 
young  and  lovely,  graceful  and  commanding  ;  she  inspired  a  res- 
pect, and  compelled  the  beholder  to  admire,  to  love  and  reverence 
her.  Her  voice  was  melodious  ;  her  words  quite  charming  ;  and 
every  look  and  motion  to  her  advantage.  Taste  was  the  character- 
istic of  her  understanding,  her  sentiments  were  refined,  and  a 
sensibility  appeared  in  every  feature  of  her  face.  She  could  talk 
on  various  subjects,  and  comprehended  them,  which  is  what  few 
speakers  do  ;  but  with  the  finest  discernment  she  was  timid,  and 
so  diffident  of  her  opinion,  that  she  often  concealed  the  finest 
thoughts  under  a  seeming  simplicity  of  soul.  This  was  visible  to  a 
hearer,  and  the  decency  of  ignorance  added  a  new  beauty  to  her 
character.  In  short,  possessed  of  excellence,  she  appeared  uncon- 
scious of  it,  and  never  discovered  the  least  pride  or  precipitancy 
in  her  conversation.  Her  manner  was  perfectly  polite,  and  mixed 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  405 

with  a  gaiety  that  charmed,  because  it  was  as  free  from  restraint  as 
from  boldness. 

In  sum,  exclusive  of  her  fine  understanding,  in  her  dress,  and  in 
her  behaviour,  she  was  so  extremely  pleasing,  so  vastly  agreeable 
and  delightful,  that  she  ever  brought  to  my  remembrance,  when  I 
beheld  her,  the  Corinna  described  in  the  beautiful  lines  of 
Tibullus  : — 

Illam  quicquid  agit,  quoquo  vestigia  flectit, 
Componit  furtim  subsequiturque  decor  ; 
Seu  solvit  crines,  fusis  decet  esse  capillis  ; 
Seu  compsit  comptis  est  veneranda  comis. 
Urit  seu  tyria  voluit  procedere  pulla  ; 
Urit  seu  nivea  Candida  veste  venit. 
Tails  in  aeterno  felix  Vertumnus  Olympo 
Mille  habet  ornatus,  mille  decenter  habet. 

When  love  would  set  the  gods  on  fire,  he  flies 
To  light  his  torches  at  her  sparkling  eyes. 
Whate'er  Corinna  does,  where'er  she  goes, 
The  graces  all  her  motions  still  compose. 
How  her  hair  charms  us,  when  it  loosely  falls, 
Com'd  back  and  ty'd,  our  veneration  calls  ! 
If  she  comes  out  in  scarlet,  then  she  turns 
Us  all  to  ashes,— though  in  white  she  burns. 
Vertumnus  so  a  thousand  dresses  wears, 
So  in  a  thousand,  ever  grace  appears. 

Such  was  the  beautiful  AGNES,  who  went  off  with  me,  and  in 
doing  so  acted  well  and  wisely,  I  affirm,  on  her  taking  me  only  for 
an  honest  man  ;  for  there  is  no  more  obedience  due  from  a 
daughter  to  her  father,  when  he  becomes  an  unrelenting  oppressor, 
than  there  is  from  a  subject  to  an  English  king,  when  the  monarch 
acts  contrary  to  the  constitution.  Passive  obedience  is  as  much 
nonsense  in  a  private  family,  as  in  the  government  of  the  prince. 
The  parent,  like  the  king,  must  be  a  nursing  father,  a  rational 
humane  sovereign,  and  so  long  all  service  and  obedience  are  due. 
But  if,  like  the  prince,  he  becomes  a  tyrant,  deprives  his  daughter 
of  her  natural  rights  and  liberties  ;  will  not  allow  her  the  blessings 
of  life,  but  keep  her  in  chains  and  misery  ;  self-preservation,  and 
her  just  claim  to  the  comforts  of  existence  and  a  rational  freedom, 
give  her  a  right  to  change  her  situation,  and  better  her  condition. 
If  she  can  have  bread,  serenity,  and  freedom,  peace  and  little,  with 
an  honest  man,  she  is  just  to  herself  in  going  off  with  such  a 
deliverer.  Reason  and  revelation  will  acquit  her. 

Thus  justly  thought  Miss  DUNK,  and  therefore  with  me  she  fled 
at  midnight.  We  met  within  half  a  mile  of  her  father's  house,  by 
the  side  of  an  ancient  wood,  and  a  running  stream,  which  had  a 
pleasing  effect,  as  it  happened  to  be  a  bright  moonshine.  With 
her  foot  in  my  hand,  I  lifted  her  into  her  saddle,  and  as  our  horses 
were  excellent,  we  rode  many  miles  in  a  few  hours.  By  eight  in 


406  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  morning,  we  were  out  of  the  reach  of  old  DUNK,  and  at  the  sign 
of  the  Pilgrim,  a  lone  house  in  Esur-vale,  in  Hertfordshire,  we 
breakfasted  very  joyfully.  The  charming  AGNES  seemed  well 
pleased  with  the  expedition,  and  said  a  thousand  things  that  ren- 
dered the  journey  delightful.  Twelve  days  we  travelled  in  a  ful- 
ness of  delights,  happy  beyond  description,  and  the  thirteenth 
arrived  at  a  village  not  far  from  my  little  habitation.  Here  we 
designed  to  be  married  two  days  after,  when  we  had  rested,  as 
there  was  a  church  and  a  parson  in  the  town,  and  then  ride  on  to 
Foley-farm  in  Cumberland,  as  my  small  spot  was  called,  and  there 
sit  down  in  peace  and  happiness. 

But  the  second  day,  instead  of  rising  to  the  nuptial  ceremony, 
to  crown  my  life  with  unutterable  bliss,  and  make  me  beyond  all 
mankind  happy,  the  lovely  AGNES  fell  ill  of  a  fever.  A  sense  of 
weight  and  oppression  discovered  the  inflammation  within,  and 
was  attended  with  sharp  and  pungent  pains.  The  blood  could 
not  pass  off  as  it  ought  in  the  course  of  circulation,  and  the  whole 
mass  was  in  a  violent  fluctuation  and  motion.  In  a  word,  she  died 
in  a  few  days,  and  as  she  had  requested,  if  it  came  to  that,  I  laid 
her  out,  and  put  her  into  the  coffin  myself.  I  kept  her  seven  days, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  old  Romans,  and  then  in  the  dress  of 
sorrow,  followed  her  to  the  grave.  Thus  was  my  plan  of  happiness 
broken  to  pieces.  I  had  given  a  roundness  to  a  system  of  felicity, 
and  in  the  place  of  it  saw  death  and  horror,  and  disappointment 
before  me. 

What  to  do  next  I  could  not  tell.  One  question  was,  should  I 
return  to  Orton-lodge,  to  my  two  young  heiresses  ?  No,  they 
wanted  two  years  of  being  at  age.  Then,  shall  I  stay  at  Foley- 
farm  where  I  was,  and  turn  hermit  ?  No  :  I  had  no  inclination 
yet  to  become  a  father  of  the  deserts.  Will  you  return  to  London 
then,  and  see  if  fortune  has  any  thing  more  in  reserve  for  you  ? 
This  I  liked  best,  and  after  six  months'  deliberation  left  my  farm  in 
the  care  of  an  old  woman,  and  set  out  in  the  beginning  of  January. 

It  was  as  fine  a  winter's  morning  as  I  had  seen,  which  encouraged 
me  to  venture  among  the  Fells  of  Westmoreland  ;  but  at  noon  the 
weather  changed,  and  an  evening  very  terrible  came  on.  A  little 
after  three,  it  began  to  blow,  rain,  and  snow  very  hard,  and  it  was 
not  long  before  it  was  very  dark.  We  lost  the  way  quite,  and  for 
three  hours  wandered  about  in  as  dismal  a  night  as  ever  poor 
travellers  had.  The  storm  rattled,  the  tempest  howled  ;  we  could 
not  see  our  horses'  heads,  and  were  almost  dead  with  cold.  We 
had  nothing  to  expect  but  death,  as  we  knew  not  which  way  to 
turn  to  any  house,  and  it  was  impossible  to  remain  alive  till  the 
day  appeared.  It  was  a  dismal  scene.  But  my  time  was  not  yet 
come,  and  when  we  had  no  reason  to  expect  deliverance,  the  beasts 
of  a  sudden  stopt,  and  Soto  found  we  were  at  the  gate  of  a  walled 
yard.  There  he  immediately  made  all  the  noise  he  could,  and  it 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  407 

was  not  long  before  a  servant  with  a  lantern  came.  He  related 
our  case  within,  and  had  orders  to  admit  us.  He  brought  me  into 
a  common  parlour,  where  there  was  a  good  fire,  and  I  got  dry 
things.  The  man  brought  me  half  a  pint  of  hot  alicant,  and  in  about 
half  an  hour  I  was  alive  and  well  again.  On  enquiring  where  I 
was,  the  footman  told  me,  it  was  Doctor  STANVIL'S  house  ;  that 
his  master  and  lady  were  above  in  the  dining-room,  with  some 
company,  and  he  had  directions  to  light  me  up,  when  I  had  changed 
my  clothes,  and  had  recovered.  Upon  this  I  told  him  I  was  ready, 
and  followed  him. 

On  the  servant's  opening  a  door,  I  entered  a  handsome  apart- 
ment, well  lighted  with  wax,  and  which  had  a  glorious  fire  blazing 
in  it.  The  doctor  received  me  with  great  politeness,  and  said  many 
civil  things  upon  fortune's  conducting  me  to  his  house.  The  con- 
versation naturally  fell  upon  the  horrors  of  the  night,  as  it  still 
continued  to  rain,  hail  and  blow,  beyond  what  any  of  the  company 
had  ever  heard  ;  and  one  of  the  ladies  said,  she  believed  the  winter 
was  always  far  more  boisterous  and  cold  among  the  Fells  of  West- 
moreland, than  in  any  other  part  of  England,  for  which  she  gave 
several  good  reasons.  The  solemn  mountains  ;  the  beautiful 
valleys,  the  falling  streams  constitute  to  form  this  one  of^the  most 
charming  countries  in  the  world  in  summer-time  ;  but  in  winter,  it 
is  surely  the  most  dreadful  spot  on  earth. 

The  voice  of  the  lady  who  talked  in  this  manner,  I  thought  I  was 
well  acquainted  with,  but  by  the  position  of  the  candles,  and  the 
angle  of  a  screen  in  which  she  sat,  I  could  not  very  well  see  her  face. 
Amazement  however  began  to  seize  me,  and  as  an  elegant  supper 
was  soon  after  brought  in,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  seeing  that  Miss 
DUNK  whom  I  had  buried,  was  now  before  my  eyes  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Dr.  STANVIL'S  wife ;  or,  at  least  ,  it  was  one  so  like  her,  it  was 
not  possible  for  me  to  distinguish  the  figures  :  there  was  the  same 
bright  victorious  eyes  and  chestnut  hair  ;  the  complexion  like  a 
blush,  and  a  mouth  where  all  the  little  loves  for  ever  dwelt ;  there 
was  the  fugitive  dimple,  the  enchanting  laugh,  the  rosy  fingers,  the 
fine  height,  and  the  mien  more  striking  than  Calypso's.  O 
heavens  !  said  I  to  myself,  on  sitting  down  to  supper,  what  is  this 
I  see  !  But  as  she  did  not  seem  to  be  at  all  affected,  or  shewed  the 
least  sign  of  her  having  ever  seen  me  before  that  time,  I  remained 
silent,  and  only  continued  to  look  with  admiration  at  her,  unmind- 
ful of  the  many  excellent  things  before  me.  In  a  minute  or  two, 
however,  I  recovered  myself.  I  ate  my  supper,  and  joined  in  the 
festivity  of  the  night.  We  had  music,  and  several  songs.  We 
were  easy,  free,  and  happy  as  well-bred  people  could  be. 

At  midnight  we  parted,  and  finding  an  easy-chair  by  the  side  of 
my  bed,  I  threw  myself  into  it,  and  began  to  reflect  on  what  I  had 
seen  ;  FIN  standing  .before  me  with  his  arms  folded,  and  looking 
very  seriously  at  me."  This  lasted  for  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour 


408  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  then  the  honest  fellow  spoke  in  the  following  manner.  "  I 
beg  leave,  Sir,  to  imagine  you  are  perplexing  yourself  about  the 
lady  of  this  house,  whom  I  suppose  you  take  for  Miss  DUNK,  we 
brought  from  the  other  side  of  England,  half  a  year  ago,  and  buried 
in  the  next  church-yard  to  Blenkern.  This,  if  I  may  be  so  free,  is 
likewise  my  opinion.  I  would  take  my  oath  of  it  in  a  court  of 
j  ustice,  if  there  was  occasion  for  that.  However  she  got  out  of  the 
grave,  and  by  whatever  casualty  she  came  to  be  Mrs.  STANVIL, 
and  mistress  of  this  fine  house  ;  yet  I  could  swear  to  her  being  the 
lady  who  travelled  with  us  from  the  west  to  Cumberland.  But 
then,  it  seems  very  wonderful  and  strange,  that  she  should  forego 
you,  Sir,  so  soon,  or  be  able  to  act  a  part  so  amazing,  as  to  seem 
not  to  have  ever  seen  you  before  this  night.  This  has  astonished 
me,  as  I  stood  behind  your  chair  at  supper,  looking  full  at  her  ; 
and  I  observed  she  looked  at  me  once  or  twice.  What  to  say  to  all 
this,  I  know  not ;  but  I  will  make  all  the  inquiry  I  can  among  the 
servants,  as  to  the  time  and  manner  of  her  coming  here,  and  let  you 
know  to-morrow,  what  I  have  been  able  to  collect  in  relation  to  her. 
In  the  mean  time,  be  advised  by  me,  Sir,  though  I  am  but  a  poor 
fellow,  and  think  no  more  about  the  matter  to  the  loss  of  your 
night's  rest.  We  have  had  a  wonderful  deliverance  from  death 
by  getting  into  this  house,  I  am  sure,  and  we  ought  to  lie  down  with 
thankfulness  and  joy,  without  fretting  ourselves  awake  for  a 
woman,  or  any  trifling  incident  that  could  befall.  Beside,  she  is 
now  another  man's  property,  however  it  came  to  pass,  and  it 
would  be  inconsistent  with  your  character  to  think  any  more  of 
her.  This  may  be  too  free,  but  I  hope,  Sir,  you  will  excuse  it  in  a 
servant  who  has  your  interest  and  welfare  at  heart."  Here  the 
sage  O'FiN  had  done.  He  withdrew,  and  I  dosed  into  sleep. 

Betimes  the  next  morning  O'FiN  was  with  me,  and  on  my  ask- 
ing what  news,  he  said,  he  had  heard  something  from  all  the  ser- 
vants, and  more  particularly  had  got  the  following  account  from 
the  doctor's  own  man  :  that  Dr.  STANVIL  had  a  small  lodge  within 
three  miles  of  the  house  we  were  in,  and  retired  there  sometimes  to 
be  more  alone,  than  he  could  be  in  the  residence  where  we  were  at ; 
that  this  lodge  was  a  mere  repository  of  curiosities,  in  the  middle 
of  a  garden  full  of  all  the  herbs  and  plants  that  grew  in  every 
country  of  the  world,  and  in  one  chamber  of  this  house  was  a  great 
number  of  skeletons,  which  the  doctor  had  made  himself  ;  for  it 
was  his  wont  to  procure  bodies  from  the  surrounding  church-yards, 
by  men  he  kept  in  pay  for  the  purpose,  and  cut  them  up  himself  at 
this  lodge  :  that  some  of  these  dead  were  brought  to  him  in  ham- 
pers, and  some  in  their  coffins  on  light  railed  cars,  as  the  case 
required  :  that  near  six  monthe  ago,  the  last  time  the  doctor  was 
at  this  lodge,  there  was  brought  to  him  by  his  men  the  body  of  a 
young  woman  in  her  coffin,  in  order  to  a  dissection  as  usual,  and 
the  bones  being  wired  ;  but  as  it  lay  on  the  back,  on  the  great  table 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 4Q9 

he  cuts  up  on,  and  the  point  of  his  knife  at  the  pit  of  the  stomach, 
to  open  the  breast,  he  perceived  a  kind  of  motion  in  the  subject, 
heard  a  sigh  soon  after,  and  looking  up  to  the  head  saw  the  eyes 
open  and  shut  again  ;  that  upon  this,  he  laid  down  his  knite, 
which  had  but  just  scratched^  body,  jrtthe  beginm^s  o^the 
linea  alba,  as  my  i: 


fK.  ^-rfa  m  the  world  i. 

£  !f  °ne  °  -  "Ale  shroud  which  had  been  on  her  in  the 

ffi  ^  ^°™£FtWng  belonging  to  dress  that  a  woman  of 
|™52irt9fiicoold  have  occasion  for,  and  in  a  few  days'  time,  she 
sparkled  before  her  preserver  in  the  brightness  of  an  Eastern 
princess.  He  was  quite  charmed  with  the  beauties  of  her  person, 
and  could  not  enough  admire  her  uncommon  understanding  ; 
he  therefore  offered  to  marry  her,  to  settle  largely  on  her,  and  as 
she  was  a  single  woman,  she  could  not  in  gratitude  refuse  the 
request  of  so  generous  a  benefactor.  My  informer  further  related, 
that  they  have  both  lived  in  the  greatest  happiness  ever  since  ; 
and  the  doctor,  who  is  one  of  the  best  of  men,  is  continually  study- 
ing how  to  add  to  her  felicities,  that  he  offered  to  take  her  up  to 
London  to  pass  the  winters  there,  but  this  she  refused,  and 
desired  she  might  remain  where  she  was  in  the  country,  as  it  was 
really  most  agreeable  to  her,  and  as  he  preferred  it  to  the  town. 

This  account  made  the  thing  quite  plain  to  me.  And  to  judge 
impartially,  considering  the  whole  case,  I  could  neither  blame  the 
lovely  AGNES  for  marrying  the  doctor,  nor  condemn  her  for  pre- 
tending to  be  a  stranger  to  me.  She  was  fairly  dead  and 
buried,  and  all  connexion  between  us  was  at  an  end  of 
course,  as  there  had  been  no  marriage,  nor  contract  of  marriage. 
And  as  to  reviving  the  affair,  and  renewing  the  tenderness 
which  had  existed,  it  could  answer  no  other  end  than  produc- 
ing unhappiness,  as  she  was  then  Mrs.  STANVIL,  in  a  decent  and 
happy  situation.  And  further,  in  respect  of  her  marrying  the 
doctor,  so  soon  after  her  separation  from  me,  it  was  certainly  the 
wisest  thing  she  could  do,  as  she  had  been  so  entirely  at  his  disposal, 
was  without  a  stitch  to  cover  her,  and  I  in  all  probability,  after 
burying  her,  being  gone  up  to  London,  or  in  some  place,  where  she 
could  never  hear  of  me  more  ;  I  might  likewise  have  been  married, 
if  anything  advantageous  had  offered  after  laying  her  in  the  church- 
yard. And  beside,  she  neither  knew  the  place  she  fell  sick  in,  nor 
the  country  the  doctor  removed  her  to,  as  soon  as  he  could  get  her 
clothes  to  put  on.  So  that,  naked  and  friendless  as  she  was,  with- 
out any  money,  and  ignorant  of  what  became  of  me,  without  a 
possibility  of  informing  herself,  I  could  not  but  acquit  her.  I  even 
admired  her  conduct,  and  resolved  so  far  to  imitate  her,  in  regard 
to  the  general  happiness,  that  nothing  should  appear  in  my  be- 


4io        THE  LIFE  OF 

hayiour,  which  could  incline  any  one  to  think  I  had  ever  seen  her 
before  the  night  the  tempest  drove  me  to  her  house      I  was  vexed 
I  own,  to  lose  her  ;  but  that  could  be  no  reason  for  making  a 
senseless  uproar,  that  could  do  nothing  but  mischief. 
™tn?>?P^ed  then  as  J  could  be  I  went  down  to  breakfast,  on  a 


, 
Waited  for  me>  and  found  the  same 


Dr.STANviL,who  was  extreme 

and  passed  the  time  in  a  delightful  con^d™th  thefm  two  ™nths 
music,  cards,  and  feasting.  With  sadness  TnAL!nt^rmixed  ™th 
especially  on  account  of  parting  for  ever  with  the  late^viL.3,:^ 
It  was  indeed  for  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  her,  that  I  staid  so^cL1^ 
as  I  did  at  Dr.  STANVIL'S  ;  and  when  it  came  to  an  eternal 
separation,  I  felt  on  the  morning  of  my  departure  an  inward 
distress  it  is  impossible  to  give  an  idea  of  to  another.  It  had  some 
resemblance,  I  imagine,  of  what  the  visionaries  call  dereliction, 
when  they  sink  from  ecstacy  to  the  black  void  of  horror,  by  the 
strength  of  fancy,  and  the  unaccountable  operation  of  the  animal 
spirits. 

Here,  before  I  proceed,  I  think  I  ought  to  remove  some  objec- 
tions that  may  be  made  against  my  relation  of  Mrs.  STANVIL'S 
coming  to  life  again,  and  her  being  brought  from  the  couch  of  last- 
ing night  to  a  bridal  bed.  It  is  not  easy  to  believe,  that  after  I 
seemed  certain  she  was  dead,  and  kept  her  the  proper  number  of 
days  before  interment  ;  saw  her  lie  the  cold  wan  subject  for  a 
considerable  time,  and  then  let  down  into  the  grave  ;  yet  from 
thence  she  should  come  forth,  and  now  be  the  desire  of  a  husband's 
eyes.  This  is  a  hard  account  sure.  But  nevertheless,  it  is  a  fact. 
As  to  my  being  mistaken,  no  less  a  man  than  Dr.  Cheyne  thought 
Colonel  Townsend  dead  ;  See  his  Nervous  Cases.  And  that  several 
have  lived  for  many  years,  after  they  had  been  laid  in  the  tomb,  is 
a  thing  too  certain,  and  well-known,  to  be  denied.  In  Bayle's 
Dictionary,  there  is  the  history  of  a  lady  of  quality,  belonging  to 
the  court  of  Catharine  de  Medicis,who  was  brought  from  the  church 
vault,  where  she  had  been  forty-eight  hours,  and  afterwards  became 
the  mother  of  several  children,  on  her  marriage  with  the  Marquis 
D'Auvergne.  The  learned  Dr.  Connor,  in  his  History  of  Poland, 
gives  us  a  very  wonderful  relation  of  a  gentleman's  reviving  in  that 
country,  after  he  had  been  seemingly  dead  for  near  a  fortnight  ; 
and  adds  a  very  curious  dissertation  on  the  nature  of  such  recov- 
eries. The  case  of  Dun  Scotus,  who  was  found  out  of  his  coffin, 
on  the  steps  going  down  to  the  vault  he  was  deposited  in,  and  lean- 
ing on  His  elbow,  is  full  to  my  purpose.  And  I  can  affirm  from  my 
own  knowledge,  that  a  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  a  worthy 
excellent  man,  was  buried  alive,  and  found  not  only  much  bruised 
and  torn,  on  opening  his  coffin,  but  turned  on  one  side.  This 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  41 1 

many  still  living  can  attest  as  well  as  I.  The  reason  of  opening 
the  grave  again,  was  his  dying  of  a  high  fever  in  the  absence  of  his 
lady,  who  was  in  a  distant  county  from  him  ;  and  on  her  return, 
three  days  after  he  was  buried,  would  have  a  sight  of  him,  as  she 
had  been  extremely  fond  of  him.  His  face  was  sadly  broke,  and 
his  hands  hurt  in  striving  to  force  up  the  lid  of  the  coffin.  The 
lady  was  so  affected  with  the  dismal  sight,  that  she  never  held  up 
her  head  after,  and  died  in  a  few  weeks.  I  could  likewise  add 
another  extraordinary  case  of  a  man  who  was  hanged,  and  to  all 
appearance  was  quite  dead,  yet  three  days  after  his  execution 
recovered  as  they  were  going  to  cut  him  up.  How  these  things 
happen,  it  is  not  easy  to  explain  or  account  for ;  but  they  do 
happen  sometimes.  And  this  case  of  Mrs.  STANVIL,  may  be 
depended  on  as  a  fact. 

Opinion's  foot  is  never,  never  found 
Where  knowledge  dwells,  'tis  interdicted  ground,- 
At  wisdom's  gate  opinions  must  resign 
Their  charge,  those  limits  their  employ  confine. 
Thus  trading  barks,  skill' d  in  the  wat'ry  road, 
To  distant  climes  convey  their  precious  load. 
Then  turn  their  prow,  light  bounding  o'er  the  maUi» 
And  with  new  traffic  store  their  keels  again. 
Thus  far  is  clear.     But  yet  untold  remains, 
What  the  good  genius  to  the  crowd  ordains. 
Just  on  the  verge  of  life. 

He  bids  them  hold 
A  spirit  with  erected  courage  bold. 
Never,  he  calls,  on  fortune's  faith  rely, 
Nor  grasp  her  dubious  gift  as  property. 
Let  not  her  smile  transport,  her  frown  dismay, 
Nor  praise,  nor  blame,  nor  wonder  at  her  sway, 
Which  reason  never  guides  :  'tis  fortune  still, 
Capricious  chance,  and  arbitrary  will. 
Bad  bankers,  vain  of  treasure  not  their  own, 
With  foolish  rapture  hug  the  trusted  loan. 
Impatient,  when  the  pow'rful  bond  demands 
Its  unremember'd  cov'nant  from  their  hand? 
Unlike  to  such,  without  a  sigh  restore 
What  fortune  lends  :  anon  she'll  lavish  more. 
Repenting  of  her  bounty,  snatch  away, 
Yea,  seize  your  patrimonial  fund  for  prey. 
Embrace  her  profifer'd  boon,  but  instant  rise, 
Spring  upward,  and  secure  a  lasting  prize, 
The  gift  which  wisdom  to  her  sons  divides  ; 
Knowledge,  whose  beam  the  doubting  judgment  guides, 
Scatters  the  sensual  fog,  and  clear  to  view 
Distinguishes  false  int'rest  from  the  true. 
Flee,  flee  to  this,  with  unabating  pace, 
Nor  parley  for  a  moment  at  the  place, 
Where  pleasure  and  her  harlots  tempt,  nor  rest, 
But  at  false  wisdom's  inn,  a  transient  guest : 
For  short  refection,  at  her  table  sit, 
And  take  what  science  may  your  palate  hit : 
Then  wing  your  journey  forward,  till  you  reach 
True  wisdom,  and  imbibe  the  truth  she'll  teach. 


412  THE  LIFE  OF 

Such  is  the  advice  the  friendly  genius  gives, 
He  perishes  who  scorns,  who  follows  lives. 

SCOTT'S  CEBES.* 

With  this  advice  of  the  genius  in  my  head,  which  by  chance 
had  read  the  morning  I  took  my  leave  of  Dr.  STANVIL,  I  set  out,  as 
had  resolved,  for  York,  and  designed  to  go  from  thence  to  London 
hoping  to  meet  with  something  good,  and  purposing,  if  it  was  po: 
sible,  to  be  no  longer  the  rover,  but  turn  to  something  useful,  an 
fix.  I  had  lost  almost  all  at  the  gaming-table,  as  related,  and  ha 
not  thirty  pounds  of  my  last  hundred  remaining  ;  this,  with  a  fe 
sheep,  cows,  and  horses  at  Orton-lodge,  and  a  very  small  stock  i 
my  little  farm,  on  the  borders  of  Cumberland,  was  all  I  had  lef 
It  made  me  very  serious, and  brought  some  dismal  apprehensior 
in  view  :  but  I  did  not  despair.  As  my  heart  was  honest,  I  sti 
trusted  in  the  Providence  of  God  and  His  administration  of  thing 
in  this  world.  As  the  infinite  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Create 
was  evident,  from  a  survey  of  this  magnificent  and  glorious  scene 
as  his  care  and  Providence  over  each  particular,  in  the  admini; 
tration  of  the  great  scheme  was  conspicuous  ;  can  man,  tt 
favourite  of  heaven,  have  reason  to  lift  up  his  voice  to  complain 
he  calls  off  his  affections  from  folly,  and  by  natural  and  supe: 
natural  force,  by  reason  and  revelation,  overbears  the  prejudice 
of  flesh  and  blood  :  if  he  ponders  the  hopes  and  fears  of  religioi 
and  gives  a  just  allowance  to  a  future  interest  ?  "  Hearken  to  th 
commandments,"  saith  the  Lord,  "  and  your  peace  shall  be  as 
river." 

On  then  I  trotted,  brave  as  the  man  of  wood,  we  read  of  in  a 
excellent  French  writer,  f  and  hoped  at  the  end  of  every  mile  i 
meet    with    something    fortunate  ;     but  nothing  extraordinar 
occurred  till  the  second  evening,  when  I  arrived  at  a  little  Ion 
public-house,  on  the  side  of  a  great  heath,  by  the  entrance  of 
wood.     For  an  hour  before  I  came  to  this  resting-place,  I  had  ri 
in  a  tempest  of  wind,  rain,  lightning,  and  thunder,  so  very  violen' 
that  it  brought  to  my  remembrance  Hesiod's  description  of 
storm. 

*  As  the  Table  of  Cebes  does  best  in  prose,  and  Jeremy  Collier  the  Nonjuror's  translatic 
of  this  fine  mythological  picture  is  not  good,  the  reader  will  find  another  version  of  Cebt 
Table,  as  an  appendix  at  the  end  of  this  volume.  I  made  it  at  the  request  of  a  young  lad 
who  did  not  like  Collier's  version.  The  fine  picture  in  his  English,  looks  more  like  a  woi 
in  the  'cant  language  of  L'Estrange,  or  Tom  Brown,  than  the  antient  and  charming  paintir 
of  Cebes  the  Theban  philosopher.  It  is  fitter  to  make  the  learned  men  of  a  beer-house  laug. 
than  to  delight  and  improve  people  of  breeding  and  understanding. 

t  In  Claude's  reply  to  Arnaud,  the  French  papist,  we  are  told  it  was  the  humour  of  tl 
Prince  of  Conde,  to  have  a  man  of  wood  on  horse-back,  drest  like  a  field-officer,  with  a  lif  te 
broad  sword  in  his  hand ;  which  figure  was  fastened  hi  the  great  saddle,  and  the  horse  it  WE 
on  always  kept  by  the  great  Conde's  side,  when  he  travelled  or  engaged  in  the  bloody  fielc 
Fearless  the  man  of  wood  appeared  in  many  a  well-fought  day ;  but  as  they  pursued  tl 
enemy  one  afternoon  through  a  forest,  in  riding  h  ar d,  a  bough  knocked  off  the  wooden  warrior 
head;  yet  still  he  galloped  on  after  flying  foes,  to  the  amazement  of  the  enemy,  who  sa 
a  hero  pursuing  without  a  head.  Claude  applies  this  image  to  popery. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  41 3 

Then  Jove  omnipotent  display'd  the  god, 

And  all  Olympus  trembled  as  he  trod  : 

He  grasps  ten  thousand  thunders  in  his  hand, 

Bares  his  red  arm,  and  wields  the  forky  brand  ; 

Then  aims  the  bolts,  and  bids  his  light' nings  play, 

They  flash,  and  rend  through  heav'n  their  flaming  way  : 

Redoubling  blow  on  blow,  in  wrath  he  moves, 

The  singed  earth  groans,  and  burns  with  all  her  groves: 

A  night  of  clouds  blots  out  the  golden  day, 

Full  in  their  eyes  the  writhen  lightnings  play  : 

Nor  slept  the  wind ;  the  wind  new  horror  forms, 

Clouds  dash  on  clouds  before  th'  putragious  storms  ; 

While  tearing  up  the  sands,  in  drifts  they  rise, 

And  half  the  deserts  mount  th'  encumber'd  skies  : 

At  once  the  tempest  bellows,  light'nings  fly, 

The  thunders  roar,  and  clouds  involve  the  sky. 

It  was  a  dreadful  evening  upon  a  heath,  and  so  much  as  a  bush 
was  not  to  be  met  with  for  shelter  :  but  at  last  we  came  to  the 
thatched  habitation  of  a  publican,  and  I  thought  it  a  very  com- 
fortable place.  We  had  bread  and  bacon,  and  good  ale  for  supper, 
and  in  our  circumstances,  it  seemed  a  delicious  meal. 

This  man  informed  me,  that  about  a  mile  from  his  habitation, 
in  the  middle  of  the  wood,  there  dwelt  an  old  physician,  one  Dr. 
FITZGIBBONS,  an  Irish  gentleman,  who  had  one  very  pretty 
daughter,  a  sensible  woman,  to  whom  he  was  able  to  give  a  good 
fortune,  if  a  man  to  both  their  liking  appeared  ;  but  as  no  such  one 
had  as  yet  come  in  their  way,  my  landlord  advised  me  to  try  the 
adventure,  and  he  would  furnish  me  with  an  excuse  for  going  to 
the  doctor's  house.  This  set  me  a  thinking.  Dr.  FITZGIBBONS,  an 
Irish  gentleman,  said  I,  I  know  the  man.  I  saved  his  son's  life 
in  Ireland,  when  he  was  upon  the  brink  of  destruction,  and  the  old 
gentleman  was  not  only  then  as  thankful  as  it  was  possible  for  a 
man  to  be,  in  return  for  the  good  I  had  done  him,  at  the  hazard 
of  my  own  life,  but  assured  me,  a  thousand  times  over,  that  if 
ever  it  was  in  his  power  to  return  my  kindness,  he  would  be  my 
friend  to  the  utmost  of  his  ability.  He  must  ever  remember,  with 
the  greatest  gratitude,  the  benefit  I  had  so  generously  conferred 
on  him  and  his.  All  this  came  full  into  my  mind,  and  I  deter- 
mined to  visit  the  old  gentleman  in  the  morning. 

Next  day,  as  I  had  resolved,  I  went  to  pay  my  respects  to  Dr. 
FiTZGiBBONS,who  remembered  me  perfectly  well,  was  most  heartily 
glad  to  see  me,  and  received  me  in  the  most  affectionate  manner. 
He  immediately  began  to  repeat  his  obligations  to  me,  for  the 
deliverance  I  had  given  his  son,*  and  that  if  it  was  in  his  power  to 

*  The  case  was  this, — As  I  was  returning  one  summer's  evening  from  Tallow-Hills,  where 
I  had  been  to  see  a  young  lady  mentioned  in  the  beginnng  of  my  first  volume,  I  saw  in  a  deep 
glen  before  me  two  men  engaged  ;  a  black  of  an  enormous  size,  who  fought  with  one  of  those 
large  broadswords  which  they  call  in  Ireland,  an  Andrew  Ferraro ;  and  a  little  thin  man 
with  a  drawn  rapier.  The  white  man  Iperceived  was  no  match  for  the  black,  and  must  have 
perished  very  soon,  as  he  had  received  several  wounds,  if  I  had  not  hast'ned  up  to  his  relief. 
1  knew  him  to  be  my  acquaintance,  young  FITZGIBBONS,  my  neighbour  in  the  same  square 


4H  THE  LIFE  OF 

be  of  service  to  me  in  England,  he  would  leave  nothing  undone 
that  was  possible  for  him  to  do,  to  befriend  me  He  told  me,  that 
darling  son  of  his,  whose  life  I  had  saved,  was  an  eminent  physician 
at  the  court  of  Russia,  where  he  lived  in  the  greatest  opulence  and 
reputation,  and  as  he  owed  his  existence  as  such  to  me,  his  father 
could  never  be  grateful  enough  in  return.  "  Can  I  any  way  serve 
you,  Sir  ?  Have  you  been  fortunate  or  unfortunate,  since  your 
living  in  England  ?  Are  you  married  or  unmarried  ?  I  have  a 
daughter  by  a  second  wife,  and  if  you  are  not  yet  engaged,  will 
give  her  to  you,  with  a  good  fortune,  and  in  two  years  time,  if  you 
will  study  physic  here,  under  my  direction,  will  enable  you  to  begin 
to  practice,  and  get  money  as  I  have  done  in  this  country.  I  have 
so  true  a  sense  of  that  generous  act  you  did  to  save  my  son,  that  I 
will  with  pleasure  do  any  thing  in  my  power  that  can  contribute  to 
your  happiness." 

To  this  I  replied,  by  thanking  the  doctor  for  his  friendly  offers 
and  letting  him  know,  that  since  my  coming  to  England  several 
years  ago,  which  was  occasioned  by  a  difference  between  my  father 
and  me,  I  had  met  with  several  turns  of  fortune,  good  and  bad, 
and  was  at  present  but  in  a  very  middling  way,  having  only  a  little 
spot  among  the  mountains  of  Richmondshire,  with  a  cottage  and 
garden  on  it,  and  three  or  four  beasts,  which  I  found  by  accident 
without  an  owner,  as  I  travelled  through  that  uninhabited  land  ; 
and  a  small  farm  of  fifty  acres  with  some  stock,  on  the  borders  of 
Cumberland,  which  I  got  by  a  deceased  wife.  This,  with  about 
thirty  guineas  in  my  purse,  was  my  all  at  present ;  and  I  was  going 
up  to  London,  to  try  if  I  could  meet  with  any  thing  fortunate  in 
that  place  ;  but  that,  since  he  was  pleased  to  make  me  such 
generous  offers,  I  would  stop,  study  physic  as  he  proposed,  and 
accept  the  great  honour  he  did  me  in  offering  me  his  daughter  for  a 
wife.  I  told  him  likewise  very  fairly  and  honestly,  that  I  had 
been  rich  by  three  or  four  marriages  since  my  being  in  this  country; 
but  that  I  was  unfortunately  taken  in  at  a  gaming-table,  by  the 
means  of  two  Irish  gentlemen  he  knew  very  well,  and  there  lost  all; 
which  vexed  me  the  more,  as  I  really  do  not  love  play  ;  that  as  to 
my  father,  I  had  little  to  expect  from  him,  though  he  had  a  great 
estate,  as  our  difference  was  about  religion  ;  which  kind  of  dis- 
putes have  always  the  most  cruel  tendency  ;  and  the  wife  he  had, 

of  the  college  that  I  lived  in  ;  and  immediately  drawing  an  excellent  Spanish  tuck  I  always 
wore,  took  the  Moor  to  myself,  FITZGIBBONS  not  being  able  to  stand  any  longer,  and  a  glorious 
battle  ensued.  As  I  was  a  master  of  the  small  sword  in  those  days,  I  had  the  advantage 
of  the  black  by  my  weapon,  as  the  broad  sword  is  but  a  poor  defence  against  a  rapier,  and  gave 
him  three  wounds  for  every  slight  one  I  received  :  but  at  last  he  cut  me  quite  through  the 
left  collar-bone  and  in  return,  I  was  in  his  vast  body  a  moment  after.  This  dropt  the 
robber,  who  had  been  a  trumpeter  to  a  regiment  of  horse  ;  and  FITZGIBBONS  and  I  were 
brought,  by  some  people  passing  that  way  to  his  father's  house  at  Dolfin's-barn,  a  village 
about  a  mile  from  the  spot  where  this  affair  happened.  A  surgeon  was  sent  for,  and  we 
recovered  in  a  few  weeks  time ;  but  my  collar-bone  was  much  more  troublesome  to  me, 
than  the  wounds  FITZGIBBONS  had  were  to  him,  though  he  lost  much  more  blood.  This 
was  the  ground  of  the  obligation  the  doctor  mentioned,  in  his  conversation  with  me. 


JOHN    BUNGLE,    ESQ.  415 

a  low  cunning  woman,  did  all  she  could  to  maintain  the  variance, 
and  keep  up  his  anger  to  me,  that  her  nephew  might  do  the  better 
on  my  ruin.  That  I  had  not  written  to  him  since  my  being  in 
England  ;  nor  had  I  met  with  any  one  who  could  give  me  any 
account  of  the  family. 

"  And  what,"  said  Dr.  FITZGIBBONS,  "  is  this  fine  religious  dis- 
pute, which  has  made  your  father  fall  out  with  a  son  he  was  once 
so  proud  of  ?  "  "It  was  about  Trinity  in  Unity,  Sir  ;  a  tlu'ng  I 
have  often  heard  your  son  argue  against  by  lessons  he  had  from 
you,  as  he  informed  me.  My  father  is  as  orthodox  as  Gregory 
Nazienzen,  among  the  ancient  fathers,  or  Trapp  and  Potter, 
Webster  and  Waterland,  among  the  modern  doctors  ;  and  when 
he  found  out  that  I  was  become  an  Unitarian,  and  renounced  his 
religion  of  three  Gods,  the  horrible  creed  of  Athanasius,  and 
all  the  despicable  explications  of  his  admired  divines,  on  that 
subject;  that  I  insisted;  that  notwithstanding  all  the  subtle  in- 
ventions of  learned  men,  through  the  whole  Christian  world,  yet 
God  Almighty  hath  not  appointed  himself  to  be  worshipped  by 
precept  or  example  in  any  one  instance  in  his  holy  word,  under 
the  character  of  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ;  that  the  worship  of 
three  persons  and  one  God  is  expressly  contrary  to  the  solemn 
determination  of  Christ  and  his  Apostles  ;  and  in  numbers  of  in- 
stances in  the  New  Testament  it  is  declared,  that  the  one  God  and 
Father  of  all  is  the  only  supreme  object,  to  whom  all  religious 
worship  should  be  directed  :  that  for  these  reasons  I  renounced  the 
received  doctrine  of  a  co-equal  trinity,  and  believed  our  great  and 
learned  divines,  who  laboured  to  prevent  people  from  seeing  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  would  be  in  some  tribulation  at  Christ's 
tribunal ;  where  they  are  to  appear  stripped  of  all  worldly 
honours,  dignities,  and  preferments,  poor,  naked,  wretched  mortals 
and  to  answer  for  their  supplement  to  the  gospel,  in  an  invented 
heresy  of  three  Gods.  When  my  father  heard  these  things,  and 
saw  the  religious  case  of  his  son,  his  passion  was  very  great.  He 
forbid  me  his  table,  and  ordered  me  to  shift  for  myself.  He  re- 
nounced me,  as  I  had  done  the  triune  God." 

The  doctor  wondered  not  a  little  at  the  account  I  had  given  him, 
as  my  father  was  reckoned  a  man  of  great  abilities,  and  taking  me 
by  the  hand,  said,  I  had  acted  most  gloriously  ;  that  what  lost  me 
my  father's  affection,  was  the  very  thing  that  ought  to  have  in- 
duced him  to  erect  a  statue  to  my  honour  in  his  garden — that  since 
I  was  pleased  to  accept  of  his  offer,  his  friendship  I  might  depend 
on — that  if  I  would,  I  should  begin  the  next  day  the  study  of 
physic  under  his  direction,  and  at  the  end  of  two  years,  he  would 
give  me  his  daughter,  who  was  not  yet  quite  twent;'. 

Just  as  he  had  said  this,  Miss  FITZGIBBONS  ent< .  -ed  the  room,  and 
her  father  introduced  me  to  her.  The  sight  of  1  astonished  me, 
though  I  had  before  seen  so  many  fine  women,  f  could  not  help 


4i6  THE  LIFE  OF 


looking  with  wonder  at  her.  She  appeared  one  of  those  finished 
creatures,  whom  we  cannot  enough  admire,  and  upon  acquaintance 
with  her,  became  much  more  glorious. 

What  a  vast  variety  of  beauty  do  we  see  in  the  infinity  of  nature. 
Among  the  sex,  we  may  find  a  thousand  and  a  thousand 
perfect  images  and  characters  ;  all  equally  striking,  and  yet  as 
different  as  the  pictures  of  the  greatest  masters  in  Italy.  What 
amazing  charms  and  perfections  have  I  beheld  in  women  as  I  have 
journeyed  through  life.  When  I  have  parted  from  one  ;  well  I 
said,  I  shall  never  meet  another  like  this  inimitable  maid  ;  and 
yet  after  all,  JULIA  appeared  divinely  fair,  and  happy  in  every 
excellence  that  can  adorn  the  female  mind.  Without  that  exact 
regularity  of  beauty,  and  elegant  softness  of  propriety,  which 
rendered  Miss  DUNK,  whom  I  have  described  in  these  Memoirs,  a 
very  divinity,  JULIA  charmed  with  a  graceful  negligence,  and 
enchanted  with  a  face  that  glowed  with  youthful  wonders,  beau- 
ties that  art  could  not  adorn  but  always  diminished.  The  choice 
of  dress  was  no  part  of  JULIA'S  care,  but  by  the  neglect  of  it  she 
became  irresistible.  In  her  countenance  there  ever  appeared  a 
bewitching  mixture  of  sensibility  and  gaiety,  and  in  her  soul,by 
converse  was  discovered  that  generosity  and  tenderness  were  the 
first  principles  of  her  mind.  To  truth  and  virtue  she  was  inwardly 
devoted,  and  at  the  bottom  of  her  heart,  though  hard  to  discover 
it,  her  main  business  to  serve  God,  and  fit  herself  for  eternity.  In 
sum,  she  was  one  of  the  finest  originals  that  ever  appeared  among 
womankind,  peculiar  in  perfections  which  cannot  be  described  ; 
and  so  inexpressibly  charming  in  an  attractive  sweetness,  a  natural 
gaiety,  and  a  striking  negligence,  a  fine  understanding,  and 
the  most  humane  heart ;  that  I  found  it  impossible  to  know 
her  without  being  in  love  with  her  :  her  power  to  please 
was  extensive  indeed.  In  her,  one  had  the  loveliest  idea  of 
woman. 

To  this  fine  creature  I  was  married  at  the  end  of  two  years  from 
my  first  acquaintance  with  her  ;  that  is,  after  I  had  studied 
physic  so  long,  under  the  care  and  instruction  of  her  excellent 
father,  who  died  a  few  weeks  after  the  wedding,  which  was  in 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1734,  and  the  29th  of  my  age.  Dying, 
he  left  me  a  handsome  fortune,  his  library,  and  house  ;  and  I 
imagined  I  should  have  lived  many  happy  years  with  his  admirable 
daughter,  who  obliged  me  by  every  endearing  means,  to  be  ex- 
cessively fond  of  her.  I  began  to  practise  upon  the  old  gentleman' s 
death,  and  had  learned  so  much  in  the  two  years  I  had  studied 
under  him,  from  his  lecturing  and  my  own  hard  reading,  that  1 
was  able  to  get  some  money  among  the  opulent  round  me  ;  no1 
by  art  and  collusion,  the  case  of  too  many  doctors  in  town  and 
country,  but  by-practising  upon  consistent  principles.  The  method 
of  my  readingj  by  Dr.  FITZGIBBON'S  directions,  was  as  follows 


JOHN    BUNGLE,    ESQ.  417 

and  I  set  it  down  here  for  the  benefit  of  such  gentlemen,  as  chuse 
to  study  in  the  private  manner  I  did. 

A  method  of  studying  Physic  in  a  private  manner  :  by  which  means 
a  gentleman,  with  the  purchase  of  a  Diploma,  may  turn  out 
a  Doctor,  as  well  as  if  he  went  to  Padua,  to  hear  Morganni, 

The  first  books  I  got  upon  my  table,  were  the  Lexicons  of 
Castellus  and  Quincy  ;  one  for  the  explication  of  ancient  terms  ; 
and  the  other  of  modern.  These,  as  Dictionaries,  lay  at  hand  for 
use,  when  wanted. 

I  then  opened  the  last  edition  of  Herman  Conringius's  Intro- 
ductio  in  Universam  Artem  Medicam,  singulasque  ejus  partis  ;  I 
say  the  last  edition  of  1726,  because  that  has  an  excellent  preface 
by  Hoffmann.  This  book,  which  comes  down  to  the  beginning 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  I  read  with  great  care  ;  especially 
Gonthier  Christopher  Schelhammer's  notes,  and  additions,  which 
have  enriched  the  work  very  much.  By  the  way,  they  were  both 
very  great  men,  and  bright  ornaments  to  their  profession.  They 
wrote  an  amazing  number  of  books  on  medicine.  Conringius  died 
December,  1681,  aged  75  ;  and  Schelhammer,  in  January,  1716, 
in  the  67th  year  of  his  age. 

The  next  introductory  book  to  the  art,  was  Lindenius  Renovatus 
de  Scriptis  Medicis,  quibus  prcemittitur  Manuductio  ad  Medicinam. 
This  book  was  first  called  Libro  duo  de  Scripturis,  &c.  and  written 
by  John  Antonides  Vander  Linden,  a  famous  professor  at  Leyden, 
who  published  it  in  1637,  in  a  small  octavo.  It  was  again  printed 
in  the  same  form,  in  1651  and  1662,  at  Amsterdam;  but  the 
most  valuable  edition  is  that  printed  at  Nuremburg  in  1686, 
edited  by  George  Abraham  Merklinus,  who  made  very  many  and 
excellent  additions  to  this  fourth  edition,  and  called  it  Lindenius 
Renovatus,  as  he  had  augmented  it  to  a  thick  quarto.  Vander 
Linden  died  in  March,  1664,  aged  55  ;  and  Merklinus  in  April, 
1702,  in  the  58th  year  of  his  age.  They  have  both  written  many 
books  on  physic,  but  there  have  been  such  improvements  made 
by  the  diligence  and  success  of  modern  physicians,  that  it  would 
be  only  loss  of  time  to  read  over  all  their  works,  or  all  the  authors 
of  the  seventeenth  century. 

The  next  books  I  opened,  were  the  learned  Daniel  Le  Gere's 
History  of  Physic,  which  commences  with  the  world,  and  ends  at 
the  time  of  Galen  ;  and  the  great  Dr.  Friend's  History,  in  two 
vols.  octavo,  which  is  a  continuation  of  Le  Clerc,  down  to  Linacre, 
the  founder  of  the  College  of  Physicians,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII. 
These  books  shewed  me  the  origin  and  revolutions  of  physic,  and 
the  ancient  writers  and  their  works  on  this  subject.  Daniel  Le 
Clerc  died  in  June,  1728,  aged  76,  and  some  months. 


4i 8  THE  LIFE  OF 


When  I  had  read  these  things,*  I  turned  next  to  botany,  and 
read  Rail  Methodus  Plantarum  Emendata,  1703.  Rail  Synopsis 
Methodica  Stirpium,  third  edition  ;  and  Tournefort's  Institutiones 
Rei  Herbaria.  These  books,  with  a  few  observations  of  my  own, 
as  I  walked  in  the  gardens,  in  the  fields,  and  on  the  plains, 
furnished  me  with  sufficient  knowledge  of  this  kind  for  the  present. 
The  vast  folios  on  this  subject  are  not  for  beginners. 

Chemistry  was  the  next  thing  my  director  bid  me  look  into, 
and  to  this  purpose  I  perused  Boerhaave's  Elementa  Chemice. 
and  Hoffman's  Observations  Physico-Chemia.  These  afford  as 
much  chemistry  as  a  young  physician  need  set  out  with ;  but 
as  books  alone  give  but  an  imperfect  conception,  I  performed  most 
of  the  common  operations  in  Beecher's  portable  furnace. 

The  Materia  Medica  in  the  next  place  had  my  attention,  that 
is,  those  animal,  vegetable,  and  fossil  substances,  which  are  used 
to  prevent,  cure,  or  palliate  diseases.  And  in  order  to  know  the 
names  of  all  the  drugs,  their  history,  the  adulterations  they  are 
subject  to,  their  virtues,  their  dose,  their  manner  of  using  them, 
and  the  cautions  which  they  require,  to  get  a  sufficient  knowledge 
of  this  kind,  I  looked  into  Geoffrey's  Materia  Medica,  and  made 
a  collection  of  the  Materia  at  the  same  time,  that  I  might  con- 
ceive and  remember  what  I  read. 

Pharmacy,  or  the  art  of  preparing  and  compounding  medicines, 
was  the  next  thing  I  endeavoured  to  be  a  master  of.  And  that  I 
might  know  how  to  exalt  their  virtues,  to  obviate  their  ill 
qualities,  and  to  make  them  less  nauseous,  I  read  to  this  purpose 
Quincy's  Pharmaceutical  Lectures  and  Dispensatory,  and  took 
care  to  be  well  versed  in  all  the  Pharmacopoeia's,  those  of  London, 
Edinburgh,  Paris,  Boerhaave,  Bate,  and  Fuller.  And  I  read 
very  carefully  Gaubin's  Methodus  Prcescribendi.  This  gave  me 
the  materials,  and  taught  me  the  form  of  prescribing. 

Anatomy  I  studied  next,  that  is,  the  art  of  dividing  the  several 
parts  of  a  body,  so  as  to  know  their  size,  figure,  situation, 
connexions,  and  make.  I  began  with  Drake  and  Keil,  and  then 
read  over  Winslow.  I  had  likewise  open  before  me  at  the  same 
time,  at  my  entrance  upon  this  study,  a  good  set  of  plates,  the 
tables  of  Eustachius  and  Cooper,  and  turned  them  carefully  over 
as  I  read.  The  doctor  then  showed  me  how  to  dissect,  but 
chiefly  by  the  direction  of  a  book  entitled  Culler  Anatomicus  : 
on  Methode  Courte,  Facile,  et  Claire  de  Dissequer  les  Corps  Humaines. 
I  was  soon  able  to  perform  myself.  It  was  the  third  edition  of 
the  above  book,  by  Lyserus,  in  1679  ;  which  has  many  curious 
anatomical  observations  added  to  it  by  Gaspar  Bartholin,  the 
son  of  the  celebrated  Thomas  Bartholin,  professor  at  Copen- 
hagen. Michel  Lysdre  was  the  disciple  of  the  great  Thomas 

*  If  Mangetus  had  published  his  Bibliotfoca  Scrtpitrum  Mtdicorum,  a  vols.  folio,  at  the 
time  I  am  speaking  of,  the  Doctor,  my  friend,  would  have  recommended  it  to  a  beginner. 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  4*9 

Bartholin,  who  died  in  December,  1680,  in  his  64th  year.  Michel 
died  early  in  life,  in  1656,  a  very  young  man,  "  regrette  a  cause 
de  son  merite."  I  had  also  Nichol's  Compendium,  and  Hunter's 
Compendium.  By  these  means,  and  by  reading  the  authors  who 
have  written  upon  some  one  part  only  ;  such  as  Peyerus  de 
Glandulis  Intestinus.  Experimenta  circa  Pancras.  De  Graaf 
de  Organis  Generationis.  Gasp.  Bartholin  de  Diaphragm. 
Malpigius  de  Pulmonibus,  de  Venibus,  de  Liene,  et  de  Cornuum 
Vegetatione.  Lower  de  Corde,  de  Ventriculo,  et  de  Cerebri  Anat. 
Willis  de  Respiratione.  Glisson  de  Hepatcs.  Casserius  de  Vocis 
Auditusque  Organis.  Walsalou  de  Aure.  Havers  on  the  Bones. 
Munro  on  the  Bones.  Douglas  on  the  Muscles.  Morgagni 
Adversaria.  Ruyshii  Opera.  Nuck's  Adenographia.  Wharton's 
Adenographia.  Ridley's  Anatomy  of  the  Brain.  Santorini 
Observationes.  Boneti  Sepulchrum  Anatomicum.  Blasii  Anatomia 
Animalium.  Tyson's  Anatomy  of  the  Oran-Outang.  By  these 
means,  I  cut  up  the  body  of  a  young  woman  I  had  from  a  neigh- 
bouring churchyard,  and  acquired  knowledge  enough  of  anatomy. 

N.B. — If  all  the  pieces  written  upon  some  one  part  of  the  body 
are  not  to  be  had  single,  the  reader  inclined  to  the  delightful 
study  of  physic  will  find  them  in  the  Bibliotheca  Anatomica, 
2  vols.  folio. 

Here,  before  I  proceed,  I  will  mention  a  very  curious  case, 
which  occurred  in  my  dissecting  the  body  I  have  spoken  of.  It 
was  as  remarkable  an  example  of  preternatural  structure  as 
ever  appeared.  In  cutting  her  up,  there  was  found  two  vaginas, 
and  a  right  and  left  uterus.  Each  uterus  had  its  corresponding 
vagina,  and  the  uteri  and  the  vaginae  lay  parallel  to  each  other  ; 
there  was  only  one  ovarium  ;  but  two  perfect  hymens.  The 
labia  stretched  so  as  to  take  in  the  anus,  terminating  beyond  it ; 
and  as  they  were  in  large  ridges,  and  well  armed,  the  whole  had 
a  formidable  appearance.  If  it  should  be  asked,  Could  a  perfect 
superfoetation  take  place  in  such  a  person  ?  Most  certainly 
there  might  be  one  conception  upon  the  back  of  another  at 
different  times  ;  therefore,  I  should  not  chuse  to  marry  a  woman 
with  two  vaginas,  if  it  was  possible  to  know  it  before  wedlock. 

But  to  proceed.  The  next  things  I  read,  were  the  institutes 
of  medicine,  that  is,  such  books  as  treat  of  the  economy  and  con- 
trivance of  nature  in  adapting  the  parts  to  their  several  uses. 
The  books  purely  physiological  are  Keil's  Tentamia.  Sanctorii 
Aphorismi.  Bellini  de  Pulsibus  et  Urina.  Borellus  de  Motu 
Animalium,  both  admirable  pieces.  Friend's  Emmenologia. 
Simpson's  System  of  the  Womb.  And  Pitcairn's  Tracts.  These 
are  the  best  things  relating  to  physiology,  which  may  be  called 
the  first  part  of  the  Institutions  of  Physic. 

The  second  part  of  the  Institutes  is  the  Art  of  preserving  such 
a  system  as  the  body,  in  an  order  fit  for  the  exercise  of  its  functions 


4«o  THE  LIFE  OF 


as  long  as  possible.  The  third  part  is  pathology,  which  teaches 
the  different  manners  in  which  diseases  happen  ;  and  the  various 
causes  of  these  disorders,  with  their  attendants  and  consequences. 
The  fourth  part  is  the  doctrine  of  signs,  by  which  a  judgment  is 
formed  of  the  sound  or  bad  state  of  the  animal.  And  the  fifth  is 
Therapeutica,  that  is,  the  means  and  method  of  restoring  sanity 
to  a  distempered  body.  Treatises  on  all  these  matters  are  what 
we  call  institutions  of  physic,  and  in  relation  to  the  four  last 
mentioned,  the  best  books  are  Hoffman's  Sy sterna  Medicince 
Rationalis,  and  Boerhaave's  Institutions,  with  his  lectures  upon 
them.  These  books  I  read  with  great  attention,  and  found  them 
sufficient. 

Being  instituted  in  this  manner,  I  turned  next  to  the  practical 
writers,  and  read  the  history  of  diseases  and  their  cure  from 
observations  of  nature.  This  is  called  pathologia  particulars, 
and  is  the  great  business  of  a  physician.  All  that  has  been  said 
is  only  preparatory  to  this  study.  Here  then  I  first  very  care- 
fully read  the  authors  who  have  written  a  system  of  all  diseases  ; 
and  then,  such  writers  as  have  considered  particular  cases.  The 
best  system  writers  are  Boerhaave's  Aphorisms  and  Comment. 
Hoffman's  Pathologia  Particularis  ;  being  the  last  part  of  his 
Systema  Medicince.  Jumher's  Conspectus  Medicince.  Allen's 
Synopsis.  Shaw's  Practice  of  Physic  ;  and  Lomnii  Opusculum 
Aureum. 

The  writers  on  a  few  and  particular  distempers  are  Sydenham 
Opera.  Moreton's  Puretologia.  Bellini  de  Morbis  Capites  et  Pec- 
toris.  Ramazzini  de  Morbis  A  rtificium.  Wepsemus  de  Apoplexia. 
Hoyes  on  Asthma.  Astruc  de  Lue  Venerea.  Turner's 
Synopsis,  and  of  the  Skin.  Musgrave  de  Arthritide.  High- 
more  de  Passione  Hysterica  et  Hypocondria.  Glisson  de  Rachi- 
tide.  Clericus  de  Lumbrico  Lato.  Daventer  Ars  Obstetricandi. 
Mauriceau  des  Femmes  Grosses.  Harris  de  Morbis  Infan- 
tium.  Turner's  Letter  to  a  Young  Physician.  All  these 
books  I  read  very  carefully,  and  to  your  reading  add  the 
best  observations  you  can  any  where  get,  or  make  yourself.  I 
wrote  down  in  the  shortest  manner,  abstracts  of  the  most  curious 
and  useful  things,  especially  the  representations  of  nature ; 
and  refreshed  my  memory  by  often  looking  into  my  note-book. 
Every  thing  taken  from  nature  is  valuable.  Hypothesis  is  enter- 
taining rather  than  useful. 

And  when  I  was  reading  the  history  of  diseases  in  the  authors 
I  have  just  mentioned,  I  looked  into  the  ancient  Greek  and  Latin 
medical  writers  ;  for  all  their  merit  lies  in  this  kind  of  history. 
Their  pharmacy  and  anatomy  is  good  for  nothing.  They  scarce 
knew  any  thing  of  the  human  bodies,  but  from  the  dissections 
of  other  animals,  took  their  descriptions.  The  great  Vesalius 
in  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  the  first  that  taught 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  421 

physicians  to  study  nature  in  dissecting  human  bodies  ;  which 
was  then  considered  by  the  church  as  a  kind  of  sacrilege.  *  As  to 
chemistry,  they  had  no  notion  of  it.  It  was  not  heard  of  till 
some  hundred  years  after  the  latest  of  them.  In  botany  they 
had  made  little  progress,  in  short,  as  they  knew  little  of  botany, 
and  nothing  of  chemistry  ;  as  their  systems  of  natural  philosophy 
and  anatomy  were  false  and  unnatural,  and  it  is  upon  anatomy  and 
natural  philosophy  that  physiology  or  the  use  of  the  parts  is 
founded,we  can  expect  nothing  from  the  ancients  upon  these  heads, 
but  mere  imaginations,  or  notions  unsupported  by  observation 
or  matter  of  fact.  It  is  their  history  of  diseases  that  supports 
their  character.  Hippocrates,  in  particular,  excels  all  others  on 
this  head  ;  but  this  great  man  was  not  perfect  even  in  this. 
Knowledge  in  nature  is  the  daughter  of  time  and  experience. 
Many  notions  of  the  animal  economy  were  then  absurd,  and  if 
Hippocrates  was  too  wise  to  act  always  up  to  his  theory,  yet  he 
could  not  be  entirely  free  from  its  influence. 

The  names  of  the  ancient  original  Greek  medical  writers  are 
Hippocrates,  Dioscorides,  Aritaeus,  Galen,  and  Alexander.  The 
Latin  writers  of  physic  are  Celsus,  Scribonius  Largus,  Caelius 
Aurelianus,  Marcellus  Empericus,  Theodorus  Priscianus,  and 
Sextus  Placitus.  We  have  besides  several  collectors,  as  Oribasius, 
Aetius,  Paulus  ^Eginita,  etc.  Nicander,  the  medical  poet ; 
and  the  fragments  of  Soranus,  Rufus  Ephesius,  Zonorates, 
Vindicianus,  Diocles  Carystius,  Cassius,  and  a  few  others  ;  but 
all  these  may  be  looked  into  afterwards.  The  original  authors 
are  sufficient  in  the  noviciate. 

As  to  the  Latin  medical  writers,  Celsus,  and  Caelius  Aurelianus 
only,  are  worth  reading.  Celsus  lived  in  the  latter  end  of  the 
reign  of  Augustus,  and  is  admirable  for  the  purity  of  his  Latin, 
and  the  elegance  of  his  sense.  You  must  have  him  night  and 
morning  in  your  hands,  till  you  are  a  master  of  the  terms  and 
expressions  peculiar  to  physic,  which  occur  in  him.  The  style 
of  Caelius  is  very  bad,  and  his  cavils  tedious  ;  but  his  description 
of  diseases  is  full  and  accurate.  In  this  respect  he  is  a  very 

*  When  Vesalius  began  to  dissect  human  bodies,  he  was  considered  by  the  people  as  an 
impious  cruel  man,  and  before  he  could  practice  publicly,  was  obliged  to  get  a  decision  in 
his  favour  from  the  Salamanca  divines.  "C'est  ce  qui  engage  Charles  V.  de  faire  une  con- 
sultation aux  theologiens  de  Salamanque,  pour  savoir  si  en  conscience  on  pouvoit  dissequer 
un  corps  humain,  pour  en  connoitre  La  structure."  Memoirs  de  Niceron.  They  would  not 
let  him  settle  in  France,  but  the  republic  of  Venice  gave  him  a  professor's  chair  at  Padua, 
where  he  dissected  publicly,  and  taught  anatomy  seven  years.  He  was  but  eighteen,  when 
he  published  his  famous  book,  l,a  Fabrique  du  Corps  Humain,  which  was  the  admiration 
of  all  men  of  science ;  and  a  little  after,  he  made  a  present  of  the  first  skeleton  the  world 
ever  saw,  to  the  university  of  Basle ;  where  it  is  still  to  be  seen.  This  great  man,  Andrew 
Vesal,  was  born  the  last  of  April,  1512  ;  and  in  the  58th  year  of  his  age,  October  15,  1564, 
he  was  shipwrecked  on  the  isle  of  Zante,  and  in  the  deserts  there  was  famished  to  death. 
His  body  was  found  by  a  goldsmith  of  his  acquaintance,  who  happened  to  land  there  not  long 
after,  and  by  this  man  buried.  Vesal's  works  were  published  by  Herman  Boerhaave,  in 
two  volumes,  folio,  in  1725.  Every  physician  ought  to  have  them. 


422  THE  LIFE  OF 


valuable  writer.     He  lived  in  the  second  century,  as  did  Galen 
likewise. 

As  to  Hippocrates,  who  was  contemporary  with  Socrates, 
he  was  born  in  the  first  years  of  the  8oth  Olympiad,  460  before 
Christ,  Rene  Chartier's  edition  printed  at  Paris,  1639,  is  the  most 
pompous  :  but  Varider  Linden's,  printed  at  Leyden  in  1668, 
two  vols.  8vo.,  is  the  best.  When  I  read  Hippocrates,  I  also 
looked  into  Prosper  Alpini's  good  book  de  Presagienda  Vita  et 
Morte  digrotantium,  in  which  he  has  with  great  care  collected 
and  methodized  all  the  scattered  observations  of  Hippocrates, 
relating  to  the  dangerous  or  salutary  appearances  in  diseases. 
At  the  same  time,  I  likewise  read  this  great  man's  Medicina 
Methodica.  Alpinus,  born  in  November,  1553,  died  professor 
of  botany  at  Padua,  February,  1617,  JEt.  64.  The  best  com- 
mentators on  Hippocrates,  whose  names  you  will  find  in  Con- 
ringius's  Introduction,  are  also  worthy  of  reference. 

The  best  edition  of  Dioscorides'  Mater ia  Medica,  is  that  of 
Frankfort,  1598,  folio.  The  best  edition  of  Aritaeus,  who  lived 
before  Julius  Caesar's  time,  as  Dioscorides  did,  A.D.  46,  is  Boer- 
haave's,  1731,  folio.  The  best  editions  of  Galen's  works  are  those 
of  Basle,  1538,  in  5  vols.  and  of  Venice,  1625,  in  7  vols.,  folio. 
Alexander  of  Tralles  flourished  in  the'  sixth  century,  under 
Justinian  the  Great,  and  left  the  following  works.  Therapeutica, 
Lib.  xii.  De  Singularum  Corporis  Partium  Vitiis,  JEgritudinibus> 
et  Injuriis,  Lib.  v.  Epist.  de  Lumbricis.  Tractatus  de  Puerorum 
Morbis.  Liber  de  Febribus.  The  best  Greek  copy  is  that  of 
Stephens,  Paris,  1548,  folio.  In  Greek  and  Latin,  Basil,  1658. 
But  in  neither  of  these  editions  is  to  be  found  the  Epistle  de 
Lumbricis.  You  must  look  for  that  in  the  i2th  volume  of 
Fabricius's  Bibliotheca  Grceca. 

In  the  last  place,  besides  all  the  authors  I  have  mentioned, 
I  likewise  looked  into  the  original  observation  writers  and  mis- 
cellaneous books  relating  to  physic.  They  afford  excellent 
knowledge,  where  the  authors  are  faithful  and  judicious.  Such 
are  the  Observations  Medicce  of  Nicolaus  Tulpius,  a  curious 
book  ;  and  the  dedication  of  it  to  his  son  Peter,  a  student  in 
Physic,  good  advice.  The  second  edition  of  1652  is  the  best, 
being  a  fourth  part  larger  than  the  first  which  came  out  in  1641. 
The  Observationes  et  Curationes  Medicinales  of  Petrus  Forestus, 
Lib.  xxii.  The  Observationes  Medicce  of  Joannes  Theodorus 
Schenkius,  and  the  various  Journals  and  Transactions  of  learned 
Societies,  which  are  repositories  in  which  the  physician  finds 
much  rare  and  valuable  knowledge.  And  as  a  physician  ought 
to  ha%e  A  little  acquaintance  with  the  modern  practice  of  surgery 
I  concluded  with  Heister's,  Turner's,  and  Sharp's  Surgery. 

By  this  method  of  studying  physic  in  the  middle  of  a  wood, 
and  employing  my  time  and  pains  in  reading  the  ancients,  and 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  423 

considering  their  plain  and  natural  account  of  diseases,  I  became 
a  Doctor,  as  well  as  if  I  had  been  a  regular  collegiate.  But  it  is 
time  to  think  of  my  various  story.  Having  married  the  illustrious 
JULIA,  as  related  in  a  preceding  page,  and  by  the  death  of  her 
father  soon  after  the  wedding,  acquired  a  handsome  settlement, 
a  considerable  sum  of  money,  and  a  valuable  collection  of  books, 
I  thought  myself  so  happily  situated  in  the  midst  of  flourishing 
mercies,  and  so  well  secured  from  adversity,  that  it  was  hardly 
possible  for  the  flame  of  destruction  to  reach  me.  But  when  I 
had  not  the  least  reason  to  imagine  calamity  was  near  me,  and 
fondly  imagined  prosperity  was  my  own,  infelicity  came  stalking 
on  unseen  :  and  from  a  fulness  of  peace,  plunged  us  at  once  into 
an  abyss  of  woe.  It  was  our  wont,  when  the  evenings  were  fine, 
to  take  a  boat  at  the  bottom  of  a  meadow,  at  the  end  of  our  garden, 
and  in  the  middle  of  a  deep  river,  pass  an  hour  or  two  in  fishing?; 
but  at  last,  by  some  accident  or  other,  a  slip  of  the  foot,  or  the 
boat's  being  got  a  little  too  far  from  the  bank's  side,  JULIA  was 
drowned.  This  happened  in  the  tenth  month  of  our  marriage. 
The  loss  of  this  charming  angel  in  such  a  manner  sat  powerfully 
on  my  spirits  for  some  time,  and  the  remembrance  of  her  perfec- 
tions, and  the  delights  I  enjoyed  while  she  lived,  made  me  wish 
I  had  never  seen  her.  To  be  so  vastly  happy  as  I  was,  and  be 
deprived  of  her  in  a  moment,  in  so  shocking  a  way,  was  an  afflic- 
tion I  was  hardly  able  to  bear.  It  struck  me  to  the  heart.  I 
sat  with  my  eyes  shut  ten  days. 

But  losses  and  pains  I  considered  were  the  portion  of  mortals 
in  this  trying  state,  and  from  thence  we  ought  to  learn  to  give  up 
our  own  wills  ;  and  to  get  rid  of  all  eager  wishes,  and  violent 
affection,  that  we  may  take  up  our  rest  wholly  in  that  which 
pleaseth  God.  Carrying  our  submission  to  Him  so  far,  as  to 
bless  His  correcting  hand,  and  kiss  that  rod  that  cures  our 
passionate  eagerness,  perverseness,  and  folly. 

We  ought  likewise  to  learn  from  such  things,  to  look  upon  the 
sad  accidents  of  life,  as  not  worthy  to  be  compared  with  what 
Christ  underwent  for  our  sakes,  who,  though  he  was  a  Son,  yet 
He  learned  obedience  by  the  things  that  He  suffered  ;  and  with 
Christian  resignation  live  in  a  quiet  expectance  of  a  future 
happy  state,  after  our  patience  has  had  its  perfect  work.  Con- 
sidering that  these  light  and  momentary  afflictions  are  not  worthy 
to  be  compared  with  the  glory  that  Christ  hath  purchased  for 
us  ;  and  if  we  are  faithful  to  death,  hath  promised  to  bestow 
upon  us. 

In  all  these  things  resigning  to  the  wisdom  of  God,  and  not 
merely  to  His  will  and  authority,  believing  His  disposal  to  be 
wisest  and  best;  and  that  His  declarations  and  promises  are 
true,  though  we  cannot  in  some  cases  discern  the  reason  of  such 
an  end,  and  such  means  being  connected,  nor  can  imagine  how 


434  THE  LIFE  OF 


some  promises  can  be  made  good.  Patience,  I  said,  my  soul ! 
Patience,  and  what  thou  knowest  not  now,  thou  shalt  know  in  a 
little  time.  Thus  I  reasoned,  as  I  sat  with  my  eyes  shut,  and 
Juvenal's  observation  recurred  to  my  recollection — 

Omnibus  in  terris  quae  sunt  a  Gadibus  usqu« 
Auroran  et  Gangen,  pauci  dinoscere  possunt 
Vera  bona,  atque  illis  multum  diversa,  remota 
Erroris  nebula  :  quid  enim  ratione  timemus 
Aut  cupimus  ?  Quid  tarn  dextro  pede  concipis,  ut  t« 
Conatus  non  poeniteat,  votique  peracti  ? 

Having  thus  given  vent  to  reflection,  I  called  to  SOTO  O'EiNN, 
my  man,  to  bring  the  horses  out  immediately,  and  I  would  go 
some  way  or  other  to  see  new  scenes,  and  if  I  could,  get  another 
wife  ;  as  I  was  born  with  the  disease  of  repletion,  and  had  made 
a  resolution  not  to  fornicate,  it  was  incumbent  on  me  to  have  a 
sister  and  companion,  with  whom  I  might  lawfully  carry  on  the 
succession.  As  a  friend  to  society,  and  passively  obedient  to 
the  laws  of  my  higher  country,  a  wife  for  ever,  I  declared  ;  for, 
if  on  losing  one,  we  can  still  be  so  fortunate  as  to  get  another, 
who  is  pretty  without  pride ;  witty  without  affectation ;  to 
virtue  only  and  her  friends  a  friend — 

Whose  sense  is  great,  and  great  her  skill, 
For  reason  always  guides  her  will ; 
Civil  to  all  to  all  she's  just, 
And  faithful  to  her  friend  and  trust : 
Whose  character,  in  short,  is  such, 
That  none  can  love  or  praise  too  much. 

If  such  a  charmer  should  again  appear,  and  ten  thousand  such 
there  ever  are  among  the  sex,  silly  and  base  though  the 
majority  may  be  ;  what  man  could  say  he  had  had  enough  of 
wedlock,  because  he  had  buried  seven  such  wives  ?  I  am  sure 
I  could  not.  And  if,  like  the  men  who  were  but  striplings  at 
fourscore,  in  the  beginning  of  this  world,  I  was  to  live  for  ages, 
and  by  accidents  lost  such  partners  as  I  have  described ;  I  would 
with  rapture  take  hundreds  of  them  to  my  breast,  one  after 
another,  and  piously  propagate  the  kind.  The  most  despicable 

of  all  creatures  is  a  w .     An  abomination  to  heaven  :  and 

if  God  was  a  mere  fanciful  fear  ;  yet  such  a  wretch  the  prostitute 
is,  that  neither  honour  nor  honesty  can  ever  be  expected  from 
her.  But,  in  defiance  to  divine  and  human  laws,  she  lives  a  foe 
to  mankind  ;  to  ruin  the  fortune,  disease  the  body,  and  for  ever 
damn  the  soul  of  the  miserable  man,  who  is  dunce  enough  to 
become  a  Limberham  to  the  execrable  wretch.  The  misfortunes 
I  have  known  happen  to  gentlemen  of  my  acquaintance  by  street- 

w 1  chamber-w ,   and  kept-w — ,   would  make  a  volume 

as  large  as  this  I  am  writing,  and  leave  another  world  quite  out 
of  the  history.  I  have  seen  gentlemen  of  the  best  fortunes  and 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  425 

education,  become  worn-out  beggars  in  the  streets  of  London, 
without  anything  hardly  to  cover  them,  by  the  means  of  these 
execrable  harlots  ;  some  have  become  bullies  to  brothels  ;  and 
many  I  have  beheld  going  to  the  gallows  by  maintaining  the 
falsest  and  least- engaging  of  women  ;  but  take  a  modest  sensible 
woman  to  your  heart,  who  has  the  fear  of  the  great  God  before 
her  eyes,  and  a  regard  to  the  laws  of  her  country,  share  your 
fortune  generously  with  her,  that  she  may  have  her  innocent 
amusements  and  dress,  be  for  ever  good-humoured,  be  true  to 
her  bed,  and  every  felicity  you  may  taste  that  it  is  possible 
to  enjoy  in  this  lower  hemisphere.  Let  a  wife  be  our  choice,  as 
we  are  rationals. 

With  these  notions  in  my  head,  I  mounted  my  horse  ;  and 
determined,  in  the  first  place,  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  two  beauties 
at  Orton-lodge,  who  were  by  this  time  at  age,  and  see  what  opinions 
they  had  acquired,  and  if  they  had  any  commands  for  me.  But 
when  I  arrived  at  my  romantic  spot,  I  found  the  ladies  were  gone, 
all  places  shut  up,  and  no  soul  there  ;  the  key  of  the  house-door 
was  left  for  me,  and  a  note  fastened  to  it,  to  inform  me  how  the 
affair  was. 

"  SIR, 

"  Not  having  had  the  favour  of  hearing  from  you  for  almost 
three  years,  and  despairing  of  that  honour  and  happiness  any 
more,  we  have  left  your  fine  solitude,  to  look  after  our  fortunes, 
as  we  are  of  age  ;  and  on  enquiry  have  found  that  old  Cock, 
our  cruel  guardian,  is  dead  and  gone.  We  are  under  infinite 
obligations  to  you,  have  an  extreme  sense  of  your  goodness, 
and  hope,  if  you  are  yet  in  the  land  of  the  living,  that  we  shall 
soon  be  so  happy  as  to  get  some  account  of  you,  to  the  end  we 
may  return  the  weighty  balance  due  from, 
SIR, 

Your  most  obliged, 

and  ever  humble  servants." 

From  the  date  of  this  letter  it  appeared  that  they  were  riot  a 
month  gone  before  my  arrival ;  but  to  what  place  they  said  not, 
and  it  was  in  vain  for  me  to  enquire.  I  found  every  thing  in 
good  order,  and  all  the  goods  safe  ;  the  garden  full  of  fruits  and 
vegetables,  and  plenty  of  various  eatables  in  the  house,  pickled, 
potted,  and  preserved.  As  it  was  in  the  month  of  June,  the 
solitude  looked  vastly  charming  in  its  vales  and  forest,  its  rocks 
and  waters  ;  and  for  a  month  I  strove  to  amuse  myself  there  in 
fishing,  shooting,  and  improving  the  ground  ;  but  it  was  so 
dull,  so  sad  a  scene,  when  I  missed  the  bright  companions  I  had 
with  me  in  former  days,  who  used  to  wander  with  me  in  the  valleys, 
up  the  hills,  by  the  streams,  and  make  the  whole  a  paradise  all 


4*6  THE  LIFE  OF 


the  day  long,  that  I  could  not  bear  it  longer  than  four  weeks, 
and  rode  from  thence  to  Dr.  Sx ANVIL'S  seat,  to  ask  him  how  he 
did,  and  look  once  more  at  that  fine  curiosity,  Miss  DUNK  that 
was,  but  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  his  wife.  However,  before 
I  left  my  lodge,  I  made  a  discovery  one  day,  as  I  was  exploring 
the  wild  country,  round  my  little  house,  that  was  entertaining 
enough,  and  to  this  day,  in  remembrance,  seems  to  me  so  agree- 
able, that  I  imagine  a  relation  of  this  matter  may  be  grateful  to 
my  Readers.  It  contains  the  story  of  a  lady,  who  cannot  be 
enough  admired,  can  never  be  sufficiently  praised. 

THE    HISTORY    OF   THE   BEAUTIFUL    LEONORA. 

As  I  rambled  one  summer's  morning,  with  my  gun  and  my 
dog,  over  the  vast  mountains  which  surrounded  me  at  Orton- 
lodge,  I  came  as  the  sun  was  rising  to  a  valley  about  four  miles 
from  my  house,  which  I  had  not  seen  before,  as  the  way  to  it, 
over  the  Fells,  was  a  dangerous  road.  It  was  green  and  flowery, 
had  clumps  of  oaks  in  several  spots,  and  from  the  hovering  top  of 
a  precipice  at  the  end  of  the  glen,  a  river  falls  engulphed  in 
rifted  rocks.  It  is  a  fine  rural  scene. 

Here  I  sat  down  to  rest  myself,  and  was  admiring  the  natural 
beauties  of  the  place,  when  I  saw  three  females  turn  into  the  vale, 
and  walk  towards  the  water-fall.  One  of  them,  who  appeared 
to  be  the  mistress  had  an  extravagance  of  beauty  in  her  face  and 
a  form  such  as  I  had  not  often  seen.  The  others  were  pretty 
women  drest  like  quakers  and  very  clean.  They  came  very 
near  the  water  where  I  was,  but  did  not  see  me,  as  I  was  behind 
two  rocks  which  almost  joined  :  and  after  they  had  looked  awhile 
at  the  headlong  river,  they  went  back,  and  entering  a  narrow- way 
between  two  hills  disappeared.  I  was  greatly  surprised  at  what 
I  had  seen,  not  imagining  I  had  such  a  neighbour  in  Richmond- 
shire,  and  resolved  to  know  who  this  beauty  was.  The  wonders 
of  her  face,  her  figure,  and  her  mien,  were  striking  to  the  last 
degree. 

Arising  then  as  soon  as  they  were  out  of  sight,  I  walked  on  to 
the  turning  I  saw  them  enter  ;  and  in  half  an  hour's  time  came 
to  a  plain,  through  which  several  brooks  wandered,  and  on  the 
margin  of  one  of  them,  was  a  grove  and  a  mansion.  It  was  a 
sweet  habitation,  at  the  entrance  of  the  little  wood  ;  and  before 
the  door,  on  banks  of  flowers,  sat  the  illustrious  owner  of  this 
retreat,  and  her  two  maids.  In  such  a  place,  in  such  a  manner, 
so  unexpectedly  to  find  so  charming  a  woman,  seemed  to  me  as 
pleasing  an  incident  as  could  be  met  in  travelling  over  the  world. 

At  my  coming  near  this  lady  she  appeared  to  be  astonished, 
and  to  wonder  much  at  seeing  such  an  inhabitant  in  that  part 
of  the  world  :  but  on  pulling  off  my  hat,  and  telling  her  I  came 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  427 

to  visit  her  as  her  neighbour  \  to  pay  my  humble  respects  to  her, 
and  beg  the  honour  of  her  acquaintance  ;  she  asked  me,  from 
what  vale  or  mountain  I  came,  and  how  long  I  had  been  a  resident 
in  that  wild  part  of  the  world  ?  This  produced  a  compend  of 
some  part  of  my  story,  and  when  I  had  done,  she  desired  me  to 
walk  in.  Coffee  and  hot  rolls  were  soon  brought,  and  we  break- 
fasted cheerfully  together.  I  took  my  leave  soon  after,  having 
made  her  a  present  of  some  black  cocks  and  a  hare  I  had  shot 
that  morning  ;  and  hoped,  if  it  was  possible  to  find  an  easy  way 
to  my  lodge,  which  I  did  not  yet  know,  that  I  should  some  time 
or  other  be  honoured  with  her  presence  at  my  little  house  ;  which 
was  worth  her  seeing,  as  it  was  situated  in  the  most  delightful 
part  of  this  romantic  silent  place,  and  had  many  curiosities  near 
it ;  that  in  the  mean  time,  if  it  was  agreeable,  I  would  wait  upon 
her  again,  before  I  left  Richmondshire,  which  would  be  soon  : 
for  I  only  came  to  see  how  things  were,  and  was  obliged  to  hasten 
another  way.  This  beauty  replied,  that  it  would  give  her 
pleasure  to  see  me  when  I  had  a  few  hours  to  spare.  From  this 
invitation  I  went  three  times  more  within  a  short-space,  we 
became  well  acquainted,  and  after  dinner  one  day,  she  gave  me 
the  following  relation. 

"  My  name  was  LEONORA  SARSFIELD  before  I  married  an 
Irishman,  one  BURKE,  whom  I  met  at  Avignon  in  France.  He 
is  one  of  the  handsomest  men  of  the  age,  though  his  hopes  were 
all  his  fortune  ;  but  he  has  proved  himself  a  villain  as  great  as 
ever  disgraced  mankind.  His  breeding  and  his  eloquence,  added 
to  his  fine  figure,  induced  me  to  fancy  him  an  angel  of  a  man,  and 
to  imagine  I  had  well  bestowed  a  hundred  thousand  pounds,  to 
make  him  great,  and  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  For  three 
months  he  played  the  god,  and  I  fondly  thought  there  was  not 
such  another  happy  woman  as  myself  in  all  the  world,  but  I  was 
mistaken.  BURKE  found  out  by  some  means  or  other,  that  I 
concealed  five  thousand  pounds  of  my  fortune  from  his  know- 
ledge ;  and  that  I  was  in  my  heart  so  good  a  protestant,  that  it 
was  impossible  to  bring  me  over  to  popery,  or  ever  get  me  to  be 
an  idolater  at  the  mass,  before  the  tiny  god  of  dough  :  that  I 
could  never  be  brought  to  look  upon  the  invented  superstitions, 
and  horrible  corruptions  of  the  church  of  Rome,  as  the  true  relig- 
ion ;  nor  be  ever  persuaded  to  assist  at  the  Latin  service  in  that 
communion,  as  it  must  be  an  abomination  to  Christ  and  to  God, 
if  the  gospel  may  be  depended  upon  as  the  rule  of  faith.  When 
BURKE  perceived  these  things,  he  threw  off  the  disguise,  and 
appeared  a  monster  instead  of  a  man,  a  bigot  of  the  first  order, 
as  he  was  a  furious  papist,  which  I  did  not  know,  when  we  were 
married  ;  and  as  he  was  by  nature  as  cruel,  as  he  was  avaricious 
by  principle,  he  began  to  use  me  in  the  vilest  manner,  and  by 
words  and  deeds,  did  all  he  could  to  make  my  life  a  burden  to 


438  THE  LIFE  OF 


me.  He  was  for  ever  abusing  me  in  the  vilest  language  ;  cursing 
me  for  a  heretic  for  ever  damned  ;  and  by  blows  compelling  me 
to  inform  him  where  my  money  was  ;  he  has  left  me  covered  with 
my  own  blood  very  often,  and  when  he  found  I  still  held  out,  and 
would  not  discover  to  him  what  remained  of  my  fortune,  nor 
violate  my  religion,  which  I  valued  much  more  than  my  money  ; 
by  renouncing  the  customs  and  practice  of  the  reformed  church, 
and  joining  in  the  sinful  worship  of  the  mass  ;  he  came  to  me  one 
night  with  a  small  oak  sapling,  and  beat  me  in  such  a  manner  as 
left  me  almost  dead.  He  then  went  out  of  the  house,  told  me  he 
would  return  by  twelve,  and  make  me  comply,  or  he  would  break 
every  bone  in  my  body.  This  happened  at  a  country-seat  ot 
mine  in  the  shire  ;  all  the  servants  being  obliged  to  lie  every 
night  in  an  out-house,  that  he  might  have  the  more  power  over 
me.  His  excessive  avarice  was  but  one  cause  of  this  inhuman 
behaviour  :  it  was  the  zeal  of  this  raging  bigot  for  his  ever-cursed 
popery,  that  made  him  act  the  unrelenting  inquisitor. 

"  I  asked  you,  Sir,  before  I  began  my  story,  if  you  were  a 
catholic,  and  as  you  assured  me  you  were  the  very  reverse,  I 
may  indulge  myself  a  little  in  expressing  my  resentments  against 
that  religion  of  Satan,  which  the  Popish  doctors  drew  out  of  the 
bottomless  pit.  It  is  a  religion  formed  in  hell  by  devils,  and  from 
them  brought  by  those  arch-politicians,  the  mass-priests,  to  make 
the  world  their  slaves,  or  rack  the  human  race  to  death,  by 
torments  that  would  perhaps  melt  even  devils.  O  bloody  and 
infernal  scheme  of  worship  !  Surely  there  is  some  chosen  curse, 
some  hidden  thunder  in  the  stores  of  heaven,  red  with  just  wrath 
to  blast  the  men,  who  owe  their  greatness  to  their  apostasy  from 
the  religion  of  Christ  Jesus  :  and  to  the  woes  and  pains  they  lay 
on  mankind.  By  the  religion  of  modern  Rome,  you  see  in  me 
a  wife  almost  tortured  to  extinction  by  a  holy  Roman  catholic 
husband  :  nor  am  I  the  only  married  protestant  woman,  who 
has  felt  the  stripes  and  bruises  of  a  merciless  popish  companion. 
Thousands  to  be  sure  have  suffered  as  well  as  I  upon  the  same 
account,  though  none  in  so  miserable  a  manner.  Even  fathers 
have  lost  all  bowels  for  their  children,  and  become  the  most 
violent  persecutors,  when  the  blessed  religion  of  popery  has  been 
in  dispute.  Children,  for  its  sake,  have  destroyed  their  parents, 
and  the  world  has  been  turned  into  a  field  of  blood,  to  feed  and 
support  those  dreadful  slaughterers,  the  mass-priests ;  and  gratify 
the  blind  and  impious  religious  fancies  of  their  well-taught 
religionists,  commonly  called  catholics.  What  I  have  suffered 
gives  me  a  true  sense  of  popery.  It  has  made  me  consider  its 
errors  and  iniquities  with  double  attention.  I  tremble  at  the 
thoughts  of  its  prevailing  in  this  land.  How  direful  is  popery, 
whether  we  consider  it  in  a  religious  view,  or  regard  it  as  a  political 
contrivance,  to  gratify  the  avarice  and  ambition  of  the  clergy, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  429 

it  appears  the  just  object  of  our  contempt,  as  well  as  of  our  abhor- 
rence. It  not  only  makes  its  priests  the  slaughterers  of  man- 
kind ,  witness  the  inquisition,  the  Morisco's,  Thorn,*  England, 
Ireland,  France,  the  Low  Countries,  Hungary,  and  other  theatres 
of  barbarity,  the  most  shocking  and  inhuman  ;  but  it  causes 
even  husbands  to  become  mere  devils  to  wives  who  are  angels 
of  women  in  mind  and  body,  and  can  only  be  charged  with  their 
being  protestants.  Could  that  religion  come  down  from  heaven, 
which  claims  a  right  not  only  to  persecute  single  persons,  but  to 
devote  whole  nations  to  detruction  by  the  blackest  treachery, 
and  most  inhuman  massacres  ;  and  which  teaches  such  absur- 
dities as  transubstantiation,  masses,  purgatory,  penances,  indul- 
gences, and  attrition  ;  absurdities  that  dissipate  the  poor  Romans 
of  those  guilty  fears,  which  natural  conscience  might  otherwise 
keep  alive  in  men.  Such  things,  without  mentioning  the  ador- 
ation of  the  cross  and  other  images,  and  the  increasing  multitude 
of  imaginary  mediators,  entirely  destroy  the  credibility  of  any 
system  with  which  they  are  connected.  God  cannot  be  the  author 
of  a  scheme  which  weakens  and  corrupts  the  law  of  nature. 

"But  as  to  my  tragical  relation,"  continued  LEONORA,  "being 
thus  left  by  BURKE  in  this  sad  situation,  bleeding,  and  miserable 
with  pains,  but  still  in  dread  of  worse  usage  on  his  return,  I  crawled 
down  stairs,  to  a  small  door  in  a  black  place,  which  opened  to  a 
private  way  out  of  the  house.  This  was  known  only  to  myself,  as  it 
was  a  passage  my  father  had  made,  in  case  of  thieves,  or  any  vil- 
lains, from  a  little  unfrequented  cellar,  by  a  narrow  ascending  arch, 
to  a  thicket  in  the  corner  of  a  shrubby  field,  at  a  small  distance 
from  the  house.  To  a  labyrinth  made'in  this  small  grove  I  made 
what  haste  I  could,  and  had  not  been  long  there,  before  I  per- 
ceived through  the  trees  my  inhuman  husband  ;  and  as  he  came 
near  me,  heard  him  say,  '  she  shall  tell  me  where  my  money  is, 
for  all  she  has  is  mine  ;  and  worship  our  lady  and  the  host,  or  I 
will  burn  her  flesh  off  her  bones,  and  make  her  feel  as  many 
torments  here,  as  the  heretics  are  tortured  with  in  everlasting 
pain.'  The  sight  of  the  monster  made  me  tremble  to  so  violent 
a  degree,  that  I  was  scarcely  able  to  proceed  to  the  cottage  of  a 
poor  woman,  my  sure  friend,  about  two  miles  from  the  place  I 
was  hid  in  ;  but  I  did  my  best  to  creep  through  crossways,  and 
after  many  difficulties,  and  suffering  much  by  going  over  ditches, 
I  got  to  my  resting-place.  The  old  woman,  my  nurse,  screeched 
at  the  sight  of  me,  as  I  was  sadly  torn,  and  all  over  gore.  Such 
a  spectacle  as  I  presented  has  been  seldom  seen.  But  by  peace 
and  proper  things,  I  got  well  again  in  two  months,  and  removed 
to  this  lone  house,  which  my  father  had  built  in  this  spot  for  his 

*  The  Morisco's  were  expelled  Spain  in  the  year  1492  ;  the  inquisition  was  erected  femr 
years  after,  and  the  doings  at  Thorn,  by  which  the  quantity  of  blood  formerly  spilt  on  the 
ground  by  ever-cursed  popery  was  increased,  in  the  year  1724. 


430  THE  LIFE  OF 


occasional  retirement.  Here  I  have  been  for  two  years  past, 
and  am  as  happy  as  I  desire  to  be  :  nay  vastly  so,  as  I  am  now 
free  and  delivered  from  a  monster,  whose  avarice  and  cruelty 
made  me  a  spectacle  to  angels  and  men  :  because,  Sir,  I  would 
not  reduce  myself  to  the  state  of  a  beggar,  to  satisfy  his  insatiable 
love  of  money  :  nor  worship  his  dead  woman,  and  bit  of  bread ; 
his  rabble  of  saints,  images,  relics,  and  that  sovereign  cheat,  the 
Pope  ;  because  I  would  not  give  up  all  I  had,  and  become  an 
idolator,  as  far  more  despicable  and  sinful  than  the  antient  Pagans  ; 
as  the  Romish  ritual  and  devotions  are  more  stupid  and  abomin- 
able than  the  Heathen  religion  ;  for  disobedience  in  these  respects, 
pains  and  penalties  without  ceasing  were  my  appointment,  and 
I  was  for  some  months  as  miserable  as  the  damned. 

"  Such,  Sir,  was  my  fatal  marriage,  which  I  thought  would 
be  a  stock  of  such  felicities,  that  time  only  by  many  years  could 
reduce  to  an  evanescent  state,  and  deprive  me  of.  As  Venus  was 
at  the  bridal  with  her  whole  retinue  ;  the  ardent  amorous  boy, 
the  sister- graces  in  their  loose  attire ;  Aglaia,  Thalia,  and 
Euphrosine,  bright,  blooming,  and  gay  ;  and  was  attended  by 
Youth,  that  wayward  thing  without  her  ;  was  conducted  by 
Mercury,  the  god  of  eloquence,  and  by  Pitho,  the  goddess  of 
persuasion  ;  as  all  seemed  pleasurable  and  enchanting,  my  young 
imagination  formed  golden  scenes,  and  painted  a  happiness  quite 
glorious  and  secure.  But  how  precarious  and  perishing  is  what 
we  mortals  call  felicity  !  Love  and  his  mother  disappeared  very 
soon,  as  I  have  related  ;  and  to  them  succeeded  impetuous 
passion,  intense,  raging,  and  terrible,  with  all  the  furies  in  the  train. 
The  masked  hero  I  had  married  was  a  Phalaris,  a  miser,  a  papist ; 
a  wretch  who  had  no  taste  for  love,  no  conception  of  virtue,  no 
sense  of  charms  ;  but  to  gold  and  popery  would  sacrifice  every 
thing  that  is  fair  and  laudable.  Le  Diable  a  quatre  he  shined  in  as 
a  player,  and  was  the  Devil  himself  in  flesh  and  blood.  '  Where 

is  the  rest  of  your  gold,  you  b ?  '  with  uplifted  arm,  was  the 

cry  thundered  in  my  ears.  (  You  shall  be  catholic,  d you, 

or  I  will  pinch  off  the  flesh  from  your  bones.' " 

Here  the  beautiful  LEONORA  had  done,  and  I  wondered  very 
greatly  at  her  relation,  nor  was  her  action  in  speaking  it,  and 
the  spirit  with  which  she  talked,  less  surprising.  With  admiration 
I  beheld  her,  and  was  not  a  little  pleased,  that  I  had  found  in  my 
neighbourhood  so  extraordinary  a  person,  and  so  very  fine  an 
original.  This  lady  had  some  reason  to  abhor  the  word  catholic, 
and  might  well  be  angry  with  popery,  though  she  carried  resent- 
ment a  little  too  far  ;  but  had  the  Reader  seen  her  attitude,  her 
energies,  and  the  faces  she  made,  when  she  mentioned  the  cor- 
ruptions of  popery,  or  the  word  husband,  sure  I  am,  it  would  be 
thought  much  more  striking  than  Garrick  in  Richard,  or  Shute, 
in  his  exhibition  of  Old  Philpot.  I  was  greatly  delighted  with 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  43 1 

hei,  and  as  she  was  very  agreeable  in  every  thing,  I  generally  went 
every  second  day  to  visit  her  during  the  short  time  I  continued 
in  Riohmondshire. 

Bear  me,  ye  friendly  powers,  to  gentler  scenes, 
To  shady  bow'rs,  and  never-fading  greens  ; 
To  flow'ry  meads,  the  vales,  and  mazy  woods, 
Some  sweet  soft  seat,  adorn'd  with  springs  and  floods  : 
Where  with  the  muses,  I  may  spend  my  days, 
And  steal  myself  from  life  by  slow  decays. 
With  age  unknown  to  pain  or  sorrow  blest, 
To  the  dark  grave  retiring  as  to  rest ; 
While  gently  with  one  sigh  this  mortal  frame, 
Dissolving  turns  to  ashes  whence  it  came  ; 
And  my  free'd  soul  departs  without  a  groan, 
In  transport  wings  her  flight  to  worlds  unknown. 

July  2,  1734, 1  journeyed  from  Orton-lodge,  to  Bassora,  to  pay 
my  respects  to  Dr.  STANVIL  and  his  charming  consort,  and  was 
received  by  them  both  with  the  greatest  goodness  and  civility  ; 
but  as  before,  this  lady  did  not  seem  to  have  had  any  former 
acquaintance,  one  might  well  think  from  the  part  she  acted, 
that  she  had  never  seen  me,  till  the  accident  I  have  related  brought 
me  to  her  husband's  house.  I  did  not  however  even  hint  any 
thing  to  the  contrary,  but  turning  to  the  Doctor  a  little  after 
my  arrival,  began  to  ask  him  some  questions. 

As  he  had  an  Essay  on  Fevers  in  his  hand,  when  I  entered  the 
room,  I  requested  to  know  how  he  accounted  for  the  effects  of 
Cantharides,  in  raising  and  strengthening  a  low  trembling  pulse, 
and  driving  the  natural  heat  and  efflatus  of  the  blood  outward, 
in  giving  relief  in  delirious  ravings,  stupors,  and  loss  of  reason,  in 
reducing  continual  fevers  to  distinct  remissions,  and  in  cleansing 
and  opening  the  obstructed  glands  and  lymphatics,  so  as  to  bring 
on  the  critical  sweats,  let  loose  the  saliva  and  glandular  secre- 
tions, and  bring  down  the  thick  soluble  urine  ?  How  does  blister- 
ing, so  happily  brought  in  by  the  physical  bully  of  this  age,  Dr. 
Radcliffe,  so  wonderfully  cool  and  dilute  the  blood  ?  It  seems 
to  me  somewhat  strange. 

"  It  is  easily  accounted  for,"  replied  Dr.  STANVIL.  "  The 
Spanish  fly,  an  extremely  hot  and  perfectly  caustic  insect,  is 
stocked  with  a  subtile,  active,  and  extremely  pungent  salt, 
which  enters  the  blood  upon  the  application  of  the  blister,  and 
passes  with  it  through  the  several  glandular  strainers  and  secre- 
tory ducts.  This  stimulating  force  of  the  fly's  salt,  occasions 
the  pain  felt  in  making  the  water  with  a  blister,  which  may  be 
taken  off  by  a  thin  emulsion  made  with  the  pulp  of  roasted  apples 
in  milk  and  water,  and  causes  the  liberal,  foul,  and  stinking 
sweats,  while  the  Epispastic  is  on. 

"  This  being  evident,  it  is  plain  from  thence,  that  the  pene- 
trating salts  of  the  fly,  that  is,  the  volatile  pungent  parts  of  the 


432  THE  LIFE  OF 


cantharides,  act  in  the  blood  by  dissolving,  attenuating,  and 
ratifying  the  viscid  cohesions  of  the  lymph  and  serum  ;  by  stimu- 
lating the  nervous  coats  of  the  vessels,  throw  off  their  stagnating 
viscidities,  and  by  cleansing  the  glands,  and  forcing  out  the 
coagulated  serum,  restore  the  circulation  and  freedom  of  lymph 
from  the  arteries  to  the  veins  ;  opening,  scouring  and  cleansing 
at  the  same  time,  the  expurgatory  glands. 

In  short,  as  common  cathartics  purge  the  guts,  and  cleanse 
and  throw  off  their  clammy,  stagnating,  and  obstructing  con- 
tents, by  rarifying  and  dissolving  the  viscid  cohesions  of  the 
fluids,  and  by  stimulating  the  solids  ;  so  do  the  active  salts  of  the 
fly  penetrate  the  whole  animal  machine,  become  a  glandular 
lymphatic  purge,  and  perform  the  same  thing  in  all  the  small 
straining  conveying  pipes,  that  common  purgatives  effect  in  the 
intestines  :  and  as  by  this  means,  all  the  sluices  and  outlets  of 
the  glandular  secretions  are  opened,  the  cantharides  must  be 
cooling,  diluting,  and  refrigerating  in  their  effects  to  the  greatest 
degree,  though  so  very  hot,  caustic,  and  pungent  in  themselves. 
So  wonderfully  has  the  great  Creator  provided  for  his  creature, 
man  ;  in  giving  him  not  only  a  variety  of  the  most  pleasing  food, 
but  so  fine  a  medicine,  among  a  thousand  others,  as  the  Spanish 
fly,  to  save  him  from  the  destroying  fever,  and  restore  him  to 
health  again.  It  is  not  by  a  discharge  of  serum,  as  too  many 
doctors  imagine,  that  a  blister  relieves,  for  five  times  the  quantity 
may  be  brought  off  by  bleeding,  vomiting,  or  purging ;  but  the 
benefit  is  entirely  owing  to  that  heating,  attenuating,  and  pun- 
gent salt  of  this  fly,  and  this  fly  only,  which  the  divine  power 
and  goodness  has  made  a  lymphatic  purgative,  or  glandular 
cathartic  for  the  relief  of  man,  in  this  fatal  and  tormenting  malady. 
Vast  is  our  obligation  to  God  for  all  his  providential  blessings. 
Great  are  the  wonders  that  he  doth  for  the  children  of  men." 

Here  the  Doctor  dropt  off  his  chair,  just  as  he  had  pronounced 
the  word  men,  and  in  a  moment  became  a  lifeless  sordid  body. 
His  death  was  occasioned  by  the  blowing  up  of  his  stomach,  as  I 
found  upon  opening  his  body,  at  the  request  of  his  lady.  When 
the  blood  which  is  confined  within  the  vessels  of  the  human 
body,  is  agitated  with  a  due  motion,  it  maintains  life  ;  but  if 
there  be  a  stagnation  of  it  in  an  artery,  it  makes  an  aneurism  ; 
in  a  vein,  a  varix  ;  under  the  skin,  a  bruise  ;  in  the  nose,  it  may 
excite  an  haemorrhage  ;  in  the  vessels  of  the  brain,  an  apoplexy  ; 
in  the  lungs,  an  haemoptoe  ;  in  the  cavity  of  the  thorax,  an  em- 
pyema  ;  and  when  it  perfectly  stagnates  there,  immediate  death. 
An  animal,  observe  me,  Reader,  must  live  so  long  as  this  fluid 
circulates  through  the  conical  pipes  in  his  body,  from  the  lesser 
base  in  the  centre,  the  heart,  to  the  greater  in  the  extreme  parts  ; 
and  from  the  capillary  evanescent  arteries,  by  the  nascent  return- 
ing veins  to  the  heart  again  ;  but  when  this  fluid  ceases  to  flow 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  433 

through  the  incurved  canals,  and  the  velocities  are  no  longer 
in  '-.he  inverse  duplicate  ratio  of  the  inflated  pipes,  then  it  dies. 
The  animal  has  done  for  ever  with  food  and  sex  ;  the  two  great 
principles  which  move  this  world,  and  produce  not  only  so  much 
honest  industry,  but  so  many  wars  and  fightings,  such  cruel 
oppressions,  and  that  variety  of  woes  we  read  of  in  the  tragical 
history  of  the  world.  Even  one  of  them  does  wonders.  Cunnus 
teterrima  belli  causa.  And  when  united,  the  force  is  irresistible. 

But  as  I  was  saying,  when  this  fluid  ceases  to  flow,  the  man 
has  done  with  lust  and  hunger.  The  pope,  the  warrior,  and  the 
maid,  are  still.  The  machine  is  at  absolute  rest,  that  is,  in 
perfect  insensibility  ;  and  the  soul  of  it  is  removed  to  the  vesti- 
bulum  or  porch  of  the  highest  holy  place  ;  in  a  vehicle,  says 
Wollaston,  and  Burnet  of  the  Charter-house,  as  needful  to  our 
contact  with  the  material  system,  as  it  must  exist  with  a  spiritual 
body,  says  the  Rev.  Caleb  Fleming,  in  his  Survey  of  the  Search 
after  Souls,  because  of  its  being  present  with  its  Saviour,  behold- 
ing his  glory,  who  is  in  human  form  and  figure,  which  requires 
some  similitude  in  the  vehicle,  in  order  to  the  more  easy  and 
familiar  society  and  enjoyment.  Or,  as  the  learned  Master  of 
Peter-house,  Dr.  Edmund  Law,  and  Dr.  Sherlock,  bishop  of 
London  inform  us,  it  remains  insensible  for  ages,  till  the  con- 
summation of  all  things  ;  from  the  dissolution  of  the  body,  is 
stupid,  senseless,  and  dead  asleep  till  the  resurrection. 

Such  was  the  case  of  my  friend,  Dr.  STANVIL  ;  he  dropt  down 
dead  at  once.  A  rarefaction  in  his  stomach,  by  the  heat  and 
fermentation  of  what  he  had  taken  the  night  before  at  supper, 
destroyed  him.  That  concave  viscus,  or  bowel,  which  is  seated 
in  the  abdomen  below  the  diaphragm,  I  mean  the  stomach,  was 
inflamed,  and  as  the  descending  trunk  of  the  aorta  passes  down 
between  it  and  the  spine,  that  is,  between  the  stomach  and  back 
part  of  the  ribs,  the  inflation  and  distention  of  the  bowel  com- 
pressed and  constringed  the  transverse  section  of  the  artery  aorta 
in  its  descending  branch,  and  by  lessening  it,  impeded  the  de- 
scent of  the  blood  from  the  heart,  and  obliged  it  to  ascend  in  a 
greater  quantity  than  usual  to  the  head.  By  this  means,  the  parts 
of  the  head  were  distended  and  stretched  with  blood,  which  brought 
on  an  apoplexy,  and  the  operation  upward  being  violent,  the 
equilibrium  was  entirely  broken,  and  the  vital  tide  could  flow  no 
more.  This  I  found  on  opening  the  body.  I  likewise  observed 
that,  exclusive  of  the  compressure  of  the  descending  trunk  of  the 
artery  aorta,  the  muscular  coats  of  the  stomach  were 
stretched,  inflated,  and  distended ;  and  of  consequence,  the 
blood-vessels  which  enter  into  the  constitution  of  those  muscles, 
were  stretched,  dilated,  and  turgid  with  blood,  and  therefore 
the  blood  could  not  be  driven  forward  in  the  course  of  its  circu- 
lation with  its  natural  and  due  velocity,  but  must  prove  an 


434  THE  LIFE  OF 


obstacle  to  the  descent  of  the  blood  from  the  heart,  and  oblige 
almost  the  whole  tide  to  move  upwards.  This,  and  the  con- 
stringing  the  aorta,  at  its  orifice  or  transverse  section,  between 
the  costae  and  the  bowel  called  the  stomach,  is  enough,  I  assure 
you,  Reader,  to  knock  up  the  head  of  a  giant,  and  put  a  stop  to 
all  the  operations  of  nature.  Thus  fell  this  gentleman  in  the 
thirty-second  year  of  his  age. 

Whether  the  learned  Dr.  Edmund  Law,*  and  the  great  Dr. 
Sherlock  f  bishop  of  London,  be  right,  in  asserting,  the  human 
soul  sleeps  like  a  bat  or  a  swallow,  in  some  cavern  for  a  period, 
till  the  last  trumpet  awakens  Lewis  XIV.  the  hero  of  Voltaire 
and  Renault ;  to  answer  for  his  treachery,  falsehood,  and  cruelty  ; 
or,  whether  that  excellent  divine  Mr.  Fleming  has  declared  the 
truth,  in  maintaining  in  his  late  Survey,  that  the  conscious  scheme 
was  the  doctrine  of  Christ  and  his  apostles  ;  this  however  is 
certain,  that  my  friend  STANVIL  is  either  now  present  with  his 
Saviour,  beholding  his  glory,  in  a  vehicle  resembling  the  body 
of  our  Lord  ;  as  the  dissenter  just  mentioned  teaches  ;  or  if, 
according  to  Archdeacon  Law,  the  author  of  Considerations  on 
the  State  of  the  World,  and  my  Lord  of  London,  in  his  Sermons, 
the  scriptures  take  no  account  of  an  intermediate  state  in  death, 
and  we  shall  not  awake  or  be  made  alive  until  the  day  of  judg- 
ment ;  then  will  my  friend  have  eternal  life  at  the  resurrection  ; 
he  was  as  worthy  a  man  as  ever  lived  ;  an  upright  Christian 
deist,  whose  life  was  one  unmixed  scene  of  virtue  and  charity. 
He  did  not  believe  a  tittle  of  our  priestly  mysteries,  or  regard 
that  religion  which  skulks  behind  the  enormous  columns  of  conse- 
crated opinions  ;  but,  as  Christianity  was  revealed  from  heaven, 
to  bring  mankind  to  the  worship  of  the  one  supreme  God  and 
governor  of  the  world,  and  lead  them  into  the  paths  of  humanity, 
he  rejected  the  superstition  of  Monks  and  their  disciples,  and 
in  regard  to  the  voice  of  reason,  and  the  words  of  the  gospel, 
adored  only  the  supreme  Being,  manifested  his  love  of  God  by 
keeping  the  commandments,  and  his  love  of  his  neighbour,  by 
doing  all  the  good  in  his  power.  Such  a  man  was  Dr.  JOHN 
STANVIL.  If  men  of  fortune  would  form  their  manners  on  such 

*  Notwithstanding  all  the  fine  learning  of  Dr.  Law,  I  think  he  is  mistaken  in  many  of 
his  notions,  and  especially  in  his  Notes  on  Archbishop  King's  Origin  of  Evil ;  as  I  intend 
to  shew  in  my  Notes  aforementioned.  His  Tritheism  likewise  reqxiires  a  few  animadversions  ; 
which  I  shall  humbly  offer  with  plainness,  fairness,  and  freedom. 

t  Dr.  Sherlock,  bishop  of  London,  died  at  Fulham,  after  a  long  and  lingering  illness,  Satur- 
day, July  18,  1761,  three  months  after  the  great  and  excellent  bishop  Hoadley,  who  departed 
this  life  at  Chelsea,  April  20,  1761.  Sherlock  and  Hoadley  never  agreed;  and  which  of 
them  was  right  I  attempt  to  shew  in  my  Notes  on  Men  and  Things  and  Books.  Which  will 
be  published  as  soon  as  possible.  Why  I  think  Hoadley's  Sermons  far  preferable  to  Sherlock's, 
vastly  beautiful  though  some  things  are  in  the  Discourses  of  the  latter ;  and  that  my  Lord 
of  Winchester's  Plain  Account  of  the  Supper  is  a  most  rational  and  fine  performance ;  as 
gold  to  earth  in  respect  of  all  that  has  been  written  against  this  book.  Why,  I  say,  all 
Hoadley's  Tracts  are  matchless  and  invulnerable,  and  that  he  was  victor  in  the  Bangorian 
controversy,  the  Reader  will  find  in  many  considerations  on  these  subjects  in  the  book 
called  Notes,  &c.  aforementioned. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  435 

a  model,  virtue  by  degrees  would  spread  through  the  inferior 
world,  and  we  should  soon  be  free  from  superstition. 

Having  mentioned  the  sleeping  and  the  conscious  schemes,  I 
would  here  examine  these  opinions,  and  shew  why  I  cannot  think 
a  dead  inconscious  silence  is  to  be  our  case  till  the  consummation 
of  the  ages  ;  as  a  happiness  so  remote  would  weaken  I  believe 
the  energy  and  influence  of  our  conceptions  and  apprehensions, 
in  respect  of  faith,  hope,  and  expectations.  To  curb,  desire,  or 
suffer  severely  here,  for  the  sake  of  truth  and  virtue,  and  then 
cease  to  be,  perhaps  for  ten  thousand  years  to  come,  or  much 
longer  ;  (for  there  is  not  any  thing  in  revelation,  or  an  appearance 
out  of  it,  that  can  incline  a  rational  man  to  think  he  is  near  the 
day  of  judgment  or  general  resurrection  ;)  this  seems  to  be  an 
obstacle  in  the  progress  of  the  pilgrim.  And  therefore,  why 
I  rather  think,  we  step  immediately  from  the  dark  experiences 
of  this  first  state,  to  a  blissful  consciousness  in  the  regions  of  day, 
and  by  death  are  fixed  in  an  eternal  connexion  with  the  wise,  the 
virtuous,  and  the  holy  ;  this,  I  say,  I  would  in  the  next  place 
proceed  to  treat  of,  by  considering  what  the  scriptures  reveal 
in  relation  to  death,  and  what  is  most  probable  in  reason  ;  but 
that  it  is  necessary  to  proceed  in  my  story. 

When  the  beautiful  Mrs.  STANVIL  saw  her  husband  was  really 
dead,  and  had  paid  that  decent  tribute  of  tears  to  his  memory, 
which  was  due  to  a  man,  who  left  her  in  his  will  all  his  estates, 
real  and  personal,  to  be  by  her  disposed  of  as  she  pleased,  she 
sent  for  me  to  her  chamber  the  next  morning,  and  after  a  long 
conversation  with  her,  told  me,  she  could  now  own  who  she  was, 
and  instead  of  acting  any  longer  by  the  directions  of  her  head, 
let  me  know  from  her  heart,  that  she  had  still  the  same  regard 
for  me,  as  when  we  travelled  away  together  from  her  father's 
house  in  the  West,  to  the  North  of  England  ;  and  if  I  would  stay 
at  Bassora  where  I  was,  but  for  three  months  she  must  be  away, 
she  would  then  return,  and  her  fortune  and  hand  I  might  com- 
mand. This  I  readily  consented  to,  and  when  the  funeral  was 
over  she  departed.  For  the  time  agreed  on,  I  continued  in  the 
house,  and  to  a  day  she  was  punctual  in  her  return.  We  were 
married  the  week  after,  and  I  was  even  happier  than  I  had  ever 
been  before,  which  must  amount  to  a  felicity  inconceivably 
great  indeed.  Six  months  we  resided  at  her  seat,  and  then 
thought  it  best  to  pay  a  visit  to  my  father  in  Ireland.  We  ar- 
rived at  Bagatrogh  Castle  in  the  western  extremity  of  that  island, 
in  the  spring  of  the  year  1735,  and  were  most  kindly  received. 

My  father  longed  to  see  me,  and  was  very  greatly  rejoiced  at 
my  coming  ;  but  I  found  him  in  a  dying  way,  paralytic  all  over, 
and  scarcely  able  to  speak.  To  my  amazement,  he  was  become 
as  strict  a  unitarian  as  myself,  and  talked  with  abhorrence  of 
Athanasian  religion.  This  was  owing,  he  said,  to  my  manu- 


43<5  THE  LIFE  OF 


script  Remarks  which  I  left  with  him  on  Lord  Nottingham's 
Answer  to  Whistoris  Letter  to  his  Lordship;  which  manuscript 
of  mine  he  had  often  read  over  when  I  was  gone,  and  thereby 
was  thoroughly  convinced,  on  considering  my  reasoning,  that 
Christians  are  expressly  commanded,  upon  pain  of  God's  dis- 
pleasure, to  worship  one  supreme  God,  and  him  only,  in  the  name 
and  through  the  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ.  Upon  this  religious 
practice  as  a  fundamental  rule  he  had  at  last  fixed.  He  saw  it 
was  the  safe  way,  and  would  never  depart  from  it.  He  told 
me,  the  parson  of  his  parish,  a  right  orthodox  divine,  who  had 
been  his  chum  in  the  university,  and  very  intimate  with  him, 
was  greatly  troubled  at  this  change  in  his  sentiments,  and  said 
many  severe  things  ;  but  he  no  more  minded  the  Athanasians 
now,  than  he  did  the  idolatrous  papists.  This  gave  me  great 
pleasure,  and  recompensed  me  for  what  I  had  suffered  on  a 
religious  account.  I  gave  thanks  to  God  that  truth  through  my 
means  had  prevailed. 

And  now  my  candid  Reader,  to  take  my  leave  of  you  at  this 
time,  I  have  only  to  observe,  that  as  this  volume  is  full  large, 
I  can  only  say  in  a  short  summary,  that  soon  after  my  arrival 
at  Bagatrogh  Castle,  my  father's  seat  on  .Mail- Bay,  on  the  coast 
of  Galway  in  Ireland,  the  old  gentleman  died,  and  as  in  a  passion, 
he  had  irrevocably  settled  the  greatest  part  of  his  large  estate 
on  a  near  relation  of  mine,  and  had  it  not  in  his  power  to  leave 
me  more  than  a  hundred  a  year,  a  little  ready  money,  and  a 
small  ship,  which  lay  before  his  door  in  the  Bay,  he  descended 
to  the  grave  in  great  trouble,  with  many  tears.  Like  old  Isaac 
over  Esau,  he  wept  bitterly,  and  wished  in  vain,  that  it  was  in 
his  power  to  undo  what  he  had  done. 

As  soon  as  my  father  was  buried,  I  returned  to  England  with 
my  wife,  in  the  little  vessel,  now  my  own,  which  lay  in  the  Bay, 
and  immediately  after  landing,  and  laying  up  my  ship  in  a  safe 
place,  we  went  to  Bassora  again,  there  lived  for  one  year  as 
happy  as  two  mortals  could  be  ;  but  in  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1736,  she  died  of  the  small  pox,  and  to  divert  my  mind,  it  came 
into  my  head  to  go  to  sea,  and  make  some  voyages  in  my  own 
little  ship,  which  was  an  excellent  one  for  strength  and  sailing, 
though  but  a  sloop  of  twenty-five  tons.  I  went  captain  myself, 
and  had  an  ingenious  young  gentleman,  one  JACKMAN,  for  my 
mate,  who  had  been  in  the  East  Indies  several  times,  six  good 
hands,  and  two  cabin-boys.  Every  thing  necessary,  convenient, 
and  fit,  books,  mathematical  instruments,  &c.  we  took  on  board, 
and  weighed  anchor  the  5th  of  July,  1736. 

We  went  on  shore  at  the  Canary  Islands,  the  Cape  de  Verd  Islands, 
and  other  places.  We  passed  the  Sun  in  1 5  degrees  North  latitude, 
and  from  that  time  standing  South,  crossed  the  Line  ;  the  heats 
intolerable,  and  the  musquitoes  and  bugs  insufferable.  We  soon 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  437 

lost  sight  of  the  Northern  star,  and  had  the  Crosiers  and  Magella 
clouds  in  view.  In  three  months  time  we  anchored  at  St. 
Catharine's  on  the  coast  of  Brazil.  The  second  of  December  we 
saw  the  Streights  la  Maine,  that  run  betwixt  Terra  del  Fuego  and 
Staten,  and  is  the  boundary  between  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific 
oceans ;  but  instead  of  venturing  into  them,  and  hazarding  our  lives 
among  the  impetuous  blasts  and  waves  which  sweep  round  Cape 
Horn,  as  Admiral  Anson  did  on  the  /th  of  March,  1741,  two  months 
too  late,  by  the  fault  of  the  ministry,  in  his  way  to  the  South  Seas  ; 
we  kept  out  at  sea  to  the  East  of  Staten-land,  and  ran  to  the 
latitude  64,  before  we  stood  to  the  Westward.  The  weather 
was  fine,  as  it  was  then  the  height  of  summer,  to  wit,  in  December 
and  January.  All  the  occurrences  in  this  course,  the  discovery 
we  made  in  the  latitude  above-mentioned  of  an  inhabited  island, 
governed  by  a  young  Queen,  and  what  appeared  and  happened 
there,  and  in  our  run  from  thence  to  Borneo  and  Asia,  round  the 
globe  ;  and  from  China  to  Europe,  on  our  return  home  ;  with 
the  events  we  afterwards  met  with,  and  the  observations  I  made 
in  other  places,  the  Reader  will  find  in  a  book  called,  The  Voyages 
and  Travels  of  Dr.  Lorimer. 

Nine  years  of  my  life  were  spent  in  travelling  and  sailing  about, 
and  at  last  I  returned  to  rest  and  reflect,  and  in  rational  amuse- 
ments pass  the  remainder  of  my  time  away.  I  retired  to  a  little 
flowery  retreat  I  had  purchased  within  a  few  miles  of  London, 
that  I  might  easily  know  what  was  doing  in  this  hemisphere, 
while  I  belong  to  it ;  and  in  the  midst  of  groves  and  streams, 
fields  and  lawns,  have  lived  as  happily  ever  since,  as  a  mortal 
can  do  on  this  Planet. 

Dr.  Cheyne  by  the  way,  I  observe,  calls  it  a  ruined  Planet,  in 
his  wild  posthumous  book  ;*  a  notion  he  had  from  enthusiastic 
Law,f  his  master,  but  from  what  I  have  seen  on  three  continents, 

*  It  is  a  question  with  some,  if  this  book  was  not  written  by  the  Doctor's  visionary  daughter 
or  by  her  and  thelRey.  Athanasian  Bigot,  her  brother.  But  as  I  knew  the  Doctor  after  he 
was  a  little  cracked  with  imaginary  religion,  and  have  heard  him  talk  as  in  this  book,  I  am 
positive  it  is  his. 

t  William  Law,  the  father  of  our  Methodists,  and  the  disciple  of  Jacob  Behmen  the  the- 
osopher,  died  at  King's  Cliff  near  Nottingham,  April  13,  1761,  seven  days  before  bishop  Hoad- 
ley,  against  whom  he  was  a  bitter  writer  in  the  Bangorian  controversy.  I  knew  this  famous 
visionary  very  well,  and  shall  remark  largely  on  his  writings  in  my  Notes  relating  to  Men 
and  Things  and  Books. 

Law  was  the  most  amazing  compound  I  have  ever  seen.  He  was  a  man  of  sense,  a  fine 
writer,  and  a  fine  gentleman  ;  and  yet  the  wildest  enthusiast  that  ever  appeared  among  men. 
His  temper  was  charming,  sweet,  and  delightful ;  and  his  manners  quite  primitive  and  un- 
commonly pious :  he  was  all  charity  and  goodness,  and  so  soft  and  gentle  in  conversation, 
that  I  have  thought  myself  in  company  with  one  of  the  men  of  the  first  church  at  Jerusalem 
while  with  him.  He  had  likewise  the  justest  notions  of  Christian  temper  and  practice,  and 
recommended  them  in  so  insinuating  a  manner,  that  even  a  rake  would  hear  him  with 
pleasure.  I  have  not  seen  any  like  him  among  the  sons  of  men  in  these  particulars.  It 
was  wrong  to  put  him  in  the  Dunciad,  and  call  him  one  Law,  as  Pope  does.  He  was  really 
a  very  extraordinary  man  ;  and  to  his  honour  be  it  remembered,  that  he  had  the  great  con- 
cern of  human  life  at  heart,  took  much  pains  in  the  pulpit,  and  from  the  press,  witness  his 
two  fine  books  On  a  devout  Life :  to  make  men  fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments.  He 
was  a  good  man  indeed. 


438  THE  LIFE  OF 


and  in  traversing  the  ocean  round  the  globe,  from  West  to  East, 
and  from  the  Southern  latitude  64,  to  66  North  ;  a  Planet  in 
reality  so  divinely  made  and  perfect,  that  one  can  never  suffici- 
ently adore  and  praise  an  infinitely  wise  God  for  such  a  piece 
of  his  handy  work.  A  world  so  wisely  contrived,  so  accurately 
made,  as  to  demonstrate  the  Creator's  being  and  attributes,  and 
cause  every  rational  mortal  to  acknowledge  that  Jehovah  is  our 
God,  and  fear  and  obey  so  great  and  tremendous  a  Being  the 
power  and  glory  of  our  God. 

But  as  I  was  saying,  after  my  return,  I  bought  a  little  spot  and 
country-house,  where  I  might  rest  from  my  labours,  and  easily 
know  what  is  doing  in  this  hemisphere  :  how  gloriously  our  most 
gracious  and  excellent  king  endeavours  to  advance  the  felicity  of 
his  people,  and  promote  the  honour  and  dignity  of  Great  Britain  : 
how  indefatigable  the  present  ministry  is  in  pursuing  such  mea- 
sures, as  demonstrate  they  have  the  interest  of  their  country  at 
heart ;  as  evince  how  well  they  supply  the  deficiencies  of  their 
predecessors  in  office  ;  and  how  zealously  the  combined  wisdom 
of  the  whole  legislature  acts  for  the  preservation  of  the  Britannic 
constitution,  and  the  liberties  and  properties  of  the  people  ;  that 
the  ends  of  the  late  war  may  be  answered,  and  the  peace  at  last 
give  universal  satisfaction. 

To  hear  such  news  ;  and  know  what  France  and  Spain  are  do- 
ing ;  and  what  the  renowned  Anti-Sejanus,  who  deserves  the 
curse  and  hatred  of  the  whole  community  as  an  abetter  of  arbi- 
trary power,  and  for  attempting  to  raise  the  prerogative,  is  writing ; 
I  purchased  a  retirement  near  the  capital,  a  spot  surrounded  with 
woods  and  streams,  plants  and  flowers  ;  and  over  which  a  silence 
hovers,  that  gives  a  relish  to  still  life,  and  renders  it  a  contrast  to 
the  busy,  bustling,  envious  crowds  of  men. 

Here  I  sat  down  at  last,  and  have  done  with  hopes  and  fears  for 
ever. 

"  Here  grant  me,  heav'n,  to  end  my  peaceful  days, 
And  pass  what's  left  of  life  in  studious  ease ; 
Here  court  the  muses,  whilst  the  sun  on  high, 
Flames  in  the  vault  of  heav'n,  and  fires  the  sky ; 
Soon  as  Aurora  from  her  golden  bow'rs, 
Exhales  the  fragrance  of  the  balmy  flow'rs, 
Reclin'd  in  silence  on  a  mossy  bed, 
Consult  the  learned  volumes  of  the  dead  ; 

But  what  strange  books  did  he  write  His  Appeal  to  the  Deity,  His  Spirit  of  Prayer  and 
Love,  His  Earnest  and  Serious  Answer  to  Trapp.  His  notes  and  Illustrations  on  Behmen. 
His  Replies  to  Hoadley ;  and  what  is  stranger  still,  his  abuse  of  bishop  Hoadley,  in  his 
Appeal  I  have  mentioned. 

Here,  had  I  room,  I  would  relate  a  very  curious  conversation  that  passed  between  Dr. 
Theophilus  Bolton,  archbishop  of  Cashell  in  Ireland,  a  most  excellent,  most  sensible,  and  most 
learned  man,  and  me,  on  the  third  night's  sale  of  archbishop  King's  library  in  Dublin,  in 
relation  to  Mr.  Law.  It  happened  on  his  Lordship's  buying  Jacob  Behmen's  works  for  a 
pound,  and  then  asking  me,  who  stood  by  him,  if  I  had  read  them,  and  could  enable  him  to 
understand  them  ?  But  this  I  must  place  in  my  Notes  aforementioned. 


JOHN  BUN  OLE,  ESQ.  439 

Fall'n  realms  and  empires  in  description  view, 
Live  o'er  past  times,  and  build  whole  worlds  anew  ; 
Oft  from  the  bursting  tombs,  in  fancy  rise 
The  sons  of  Fame,  who  liv'd  in  antient  days  ; 
Oft  Listen  till  the  raptur'd  soul  takes  wings, 
While  Plato  reasons,  or  while  Homer  sings. 

Or  when  the  night's  dark  wings  this  globe  surround, 
And  the  pale  moon  begins  her  solemn  round  ; 
When  night  has  drawn  her  curtains  o'er  the  plain, 
And  silence  reassumes  her  awful  reign  ; 
Bid  my  free  soul  to  starry  orbs  repair, 
Those  radiant  orbs  that  float  in  ambient  air, 
And  with  a  regular  confusion  stray, 
Oblique,  direct,  along  the  aerial  way  : 
Fountains  of  day  !  stupendous  orbs  of  light ! 
Which  by  their  distance  lessen  to  the  sight : 
And  if  the  glass  you  use,  t'  improve  your  eyes 
Millions  beyond  the  former  millions  rise. 
For  no  end  were  they  made  ?     Or,  but  to  blaze 
Through  empty  space,  and  useless  spend  their  rays  ? 
Or  ought  we  not  with  reason  to  reply, 
Each  lucid  point  which  glows  in  yonder  sky, 
Informs  a  system  in  the  boundless  space, 
And  fills  with  glory  its  appointed  place  : 
With  beams,  unborrow'd,  brightens  other  skies, 
And  worlds,  to  thee  unknown,  with  heat  and  life  supplies. 

But  chiefly,  O  my  soul,  apply  to  loftier  themes, 
The  opening  heav'ns,  and  angels  robed  with  flames  : 
Read  in  the  sacred  leaves  how  time  began, 
And  the  dust  mov'd  and  quicken'd  into  man  ; 
Here  through  the  flow'ry  walks  of  Eden  rove, 
Court  the  soft  breeze,  or  range  the  spicy  grove  ; 
There  tread  on  hallow' d  ground  where  angels  trod, 
And  rev'rend  patriarchs  talk'd  as  friends  with  God  ; 
Or  hear  the  voice  to  slumb'ring  prophets  giv'n, 
Or  gaze  on  visions  from  the  throne  of  heav'n. 

Thus  lonely,  thoughtful,  may  I  run  the  race 
Of  transient  life,  in  no  unuseful  ease  : 
Enjoy  each  hour,  nor  as  it  fleets  away, 
Think  life  too  short,  and  yet  too  long  the  day  ; 
Of  right  observant,  while  my  soul  attends 
Each  duty,  and  makes  heav'n  and  angels  friends  : 
Can  welcome  death  with  Faith's  expecting  eye, 
And  mind  no  pangs,  since  Hope  stands  smiling  by  ; 
Nor  studious  how  to  make  a  longer  stay, 
Views  heav'nly  plains  and  realms  of  brighter  day  ; 
Shakes  off  her  load,  and  wing'd  with  ardent  love, 
Spurns  at  the  earth,  and  springs  her  flight  above, 
Soaring  through  air  to  realms  where  angels  dwell, 
Pities  the  shrieking  fiends,  and  leaves  the  lessning  hell." 


440  THE  LIFE  OF 


APPENDIX 

THE 

MYTHOLOGICAL    PICTURE    OF    CEDES 

^Y     THE    REV.    AND    FAMOUS 

JEREMY    COLLIER 


As  we  were  taking  a  turn  in  Saturn's  temple,  we  saw  a  great 
many  consecrated  presents,  remarkable  enough  for  their  curiosity. 
Amongst  the  rest,  we  took  particular  notice  of  a  picture  hung  over 
the  door  ;  the  piece  we  perceived  was  an  emblem  and  mythology  ; 
but  then  the  representation  was  so  singular  and  out  of  custom, 
that  we  were  perfectly  at  a  loss  whence  it  should  come,  and  what 
was  the  meaning  of  it.  Upon  a  strict  view,  we  found  it  was  neither 
a  city,  nor  a  camp,  but  a  sort  of  court,  with  two  partitions  of  the 
same  figure  within  it,  though  one  of  them  was  larger  than  the 
other.  The  first  court  had  a  crowd  of  people  at  the  gate,  and 
within  we  saw  a  great  company  of  women.  Just  at  the  entrance 
of  the  first  gate,  there  stood  an  old  man,  who  by  his  gesture  and 
countenance  seemed  to  be  busy  in  giving  advice  to  the  crowd  as 
they  came  in.  And  being  long  at  a  stand  about  the  design  of  the 
fable,  a  grave  man  somewhat  in  years,  making  up,  begins  to 
discourse  us  in  this  manner.  Gentlemen,  says  he,  I  understand 
you  are  strangers,  and  therefore  it  is  no  wonder  the  history  of  this 
picture  should  puzzle  you  ;  for  there  are  not  many  of  our  own 
countrymen  that  can  explain  it.  For  you  are  to  observe,  this  is 
none  of  our  town  manufacture.*  But  a  long  while  ago,  a  certain 
outlandish  manf  of  great  sense  and  learning,  and  who  by  his  dis- 
course and  behaviour,  seemed  to  be  a  disciple  of  Pythagoras  and 
Parmenides  ;  this  gentleman,  I  say,  happened  to  travel  hither, 
built  this  structure,  and  dedicated  both  the  temple  and  this  piece 
of  painting  to  Saturn.  Sir,  said  I,  had  you  any  acquaintance  with 
this  gentleman.  Yes,  says  he,  I  had  the  benefit  of  his  conversa- 
tion, and  was  one  of  his  admirers  a  long  time.  For,  to  my 
thinking,  though  he  was  but  young,  he  talked  at  a  strange  signi- 
ficant rate  .  % 

N.B.     The  remainder  of  Collier's  facetious  version  is  omitted 
for  want  of  room. 

*  The  Greek  words  which  Collier  render*  town-manufacture,  are  iroAmxov  avaB-ri^a. 

t  And  what  he  calls  outlandish,  is  a£evoc. 

£  The  Greek  fa,  Sit\eyero  iroAA.a  xai  <rwoufiaia. 


JOHN  BUNCLE,  ESQ.  44 1 


THE 

TABLE  OF  CEBES 

A    DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN  AN  OLD  MAN  AND  A  TRAVELLER 

While  we  were  walking  in  the  temple  of  Saturn,  in  the  city  of 
Thebes,  and  viewing  the  votive  honours  of  the  God,  the  various 
offerings  which  had  been  presented  to  that  deity,  we  observed  at 
the  entrance  of  the  Fane,  a  picture  tablet  that  engaged  our 
attention,  as  it  was  a  thing  entirely  new,  both  with  regard  to  the 
painting  and  the  design.  For  some  time,  we  stood  considering 
the  device  and  fable,  but  still  found  ourselves  unable  to  guess 
the  meaning.  The  piece  did  not  seem  to  be  either  a  city  or  a 
camp  ;  but  was  a  kind  of  a  walled  court,  that  had  within  it  two 
other  inclosures,  and  one  of  them  was  larger  than  the  other.  The 
first  court  opened  at  a  gate,  before  which  a  vast  crowd  of  people 
appeared,  impatient  to  enter  ;  and  within  a  group  of  female  figures 
was  represented.  Stationed  at  the  porch  without,  was  seen  a 
venerable  form,  who  looked  like  some  great  teacher,  and  seemed 
to  warn  the  rushing  multitude.  Long  we  gazed  at  this  work,  but 
were  not  able  to  understand  the  design,  till  an  old  man  came  up  to 
us,  and  spoke  in  the  following  manner. 

§  i.  O.  It  is  no  wonder  strangers,  that  you  cannot  compre- 
hend this  picture  :  for  even  our  inhabitants  are  not  able  to  give 
a  solution  of  the  allegoric  scene.  The  piece  is  not  an  offering 
of  any  of  our  citizens,  but  the  work  of  a  foreigner,  a  man  of  great 
learning  and  virtue,  and  a  zealous  disciple  of  the  Samian  or  Elean 
sages,  who  arrived  here  many  years  ago,  and  by  his  conversation 
instructed  us  in  the  best  learning,  which  is  morality.  It  was  he 
built  and  consecrated  this  temple  to  Saturn,  and  placed  here  this 
picture  you  see  before  you. 

T.  And  did  you  know  (I  said)  and  converse  with  this  wise  man  ? 

0.  Yes,  (he  replied)  I  was  long  acquainted  with  him,  and  as  he 
was  but  young,  and  talked  with  great  judgment  upon  the  most 


443  THE  LIFE  OF 


important  subjects,  with  astonishment  I  have  listened  to  him,  and 
with  pleasure  heard  him  explain  the  moral  of  this  fable. 

T.  Expound  to  us  then,  (I  conjure  you)  the  meaning  of  the 
picture,  if  business  does  not  call  you  away  ;  for  we  long  to  be 
instructed  in  the  design  of  the  piece. 

O.  I  am  at  leisure,  (the  old  man  answered)  and  willingly  consent 
to  your  request  ;  but  I  must  inform  you  first,  there  is  some  danger 
in  what  you  ask.  If  you  hearken  with  attention,  and  by  con- 
sideration understand  the  precepts,  you  will  become  wise,  virtuous 
and  blest  :*  if  otherwise,  you  will  be  abandoned,  blind,  and  miser- 
able.! The  explanation  of  the  picture  resembles  the  enigma  of 
the  Sphinx,  which  she  proposed  to  every  passenger  that  came  that 
way.  If  they  could  expound  the  riddle  they  were  safe  ;  but  if 
they  failed  in  the  attempt,  they  were  destroyed  by  the  monster.  J 
Folly  is  as  it  were  a  Sphinx  to  mankind.  She  asks  you,  How  is 
good  and  ill  denned  ?  If  you  cannot  explain  the  problem,  and 
happen  to  misjudge,  you  perish  by  degrees,  and  become  the  victim 
of  her  cruelty.  You  do  not  die  immediately,  as  the  unhappy 
did  by  the  Theban  monster  ;  but  by  the  force  and  operation  of 
folly,  you  will  find  yourself  dying  from  day  to  day,  your  rational 
part  wounded  and  decayed,  every  noble  power  of  the  soul  con- 
founded, and  like  those  given  up  to  punishment  for  life,  feel  the 
last  of  those  pangs,  which  guilt  prepares  for  the  stupid  ;  but  if  by 
thinking,  you  can  understand  and  discern  the  boundaries  of 
good  and  ill,  then  Folly  like  the  Sphinx  must  perish,  and  your 
life  will  be  blest  with  happiness  and  serenity.  Hear  me  then 
with  all  your  attention. 

These  things  being  previously  observed  by  the  old  man,  and  we 
intreating  him  to  begin,  he  lifted  up  a  wand  he  held,  and  pointing 
to  the  picture,  said,  the  first  inclosure  represents  human  life,  and 
the  multitude  at  the  gate,  those  who  are  daily  entering  into  the 
world.  That  aged  person  you  see  on  an  eminence,  directing  with 
one  hand,  and  holding  in  the  other  a  roll,  which  is  the  code  of 
reason,  is  the  genius  of  mankind  ;  benevolent,  he  seems  to  bend, 
and  teach  the  people  what  they  ought  to  do  ;  shews  them  as  they 
enter  into  life  the  path  they  ought  to  take  ;  the  way  which  leads 
to  danger,  and  that  which  bears  to  safety  and  happiness. 

T.  And  which  is  the  way,  (I  said)  and  how  are  they  to  find  it  ? 

O.  That  you  shall  know  hereafter  :  but  at  present  you  must  take 
notice  of  that  painted  woman  seated  on  a  throne  very  near  the 
gate.  She  is  called  Delusion,  and  by  every  art,  with  fawn  and 
soft  infection,  presents  a  bowl  of  ignorance  and  error  to  all  that 
enter  into  life.  They  take  the  cup,  and  in  proportion  to  what 


/uoi  KOU,  evSai.fj.ovet. 

a^povet,  /cat  /ccu/co6ai/uoves,  /cai  wi/cpoi,  <eai 
j  This  monster,  who  lived  near  Thebes,  was  said  to  be  the  daughter  of  Typhon  and 
Echidna,  and  had  a  head  and  face  like  a  girl,  wings  like  a  bird,  and  in  the  rest  like  a  dog. 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  443 

they  have  drank  of  the  intoxicating  mixture,  are  lead  away  by  the 
women  you  see,  at  a  little  distance  from  Imposture,  to  destruction 
some,  and  some  to  safety  ;  less  erring  and  less  blind  those  being 
who  have  but  tasted  of  Delusion's  cup. 

These  women  so  variously  drest,  and  so  profusely  gay,  are  called 
the  Opinions,  Desires,  and  Pleasures.  You  observe  how  they 
embrace  each  mortal  as  he  arrives  within  the  gate,  promise  the 
greatest  blessings,  and  compel  their  votaries  to  wander  with  them 
where  they  please. 

T.  But  who  (I  asked)  is  that  woman  placed  on  a  globe,  who 
appears  not  only  blind,  but  seems  to  be  wild  and  distracted  ? 
Incessantly  she  walks  about,  and  flings  her  favours  capriciously. 
From  some  she  snatches  their  effects  and  possessions,  and  be- 
stows them  upon  others. 

0.  They  call  her  Fortune  (replied  the  old  man).  Her  attitude 
marks  her  character.  Her  gifts  are  as  unstable  as  her  tottering 
ball ;  and  all  who  depend  upon  her  specious  promises,  are  deceived 
when  most  they  trust  her,  and  find  themselves  exposed  to  the 
greatest  misfortunes. 

T.  There  is  a  great  crowd  I  perceive  surrounding  her,  and  if 
too  commonly  she  meditates  mischief,  whenever  she  smiles,  what 
is  the  meaning  of  their  attendance. 

0.  These  are  the  inconsiderate,  and  stand  there  to  catch  the 
toys  she  blindly  scatters  among  them  ;  (wealth,  fame,  titles,  an 
offspring,  strength  or  beauty,  the  victor's  laurel  and  arbitrary 
power).-  Those  who  rejoice,  and  are  lavish  in  their  praises  of 
this  divinity,  have  received  some  favours  from  her,  and  call  her 
the  goddess  of  good  fortune.  But  those  whom  you  see  weeping 
and  wringing  their  hands,  are  such  whom  she  has  deprived  of 
every  good  ;  they  curse  her  as  the  goddess  of  ill-fortune. 

T.  But  (replied  I)  as  to  riches,  glory,  nobility,  a  numerous 
posterity,  power,  and  honour,  which  you  called  toys,  why  are 
they  not  real  advantages  ? 

O.  Of  these  things  (our  instructor  answered)  we  shall  speak 
hereafter  more  fully.  At  present  it  is  better  to  continue  the  ex- 
plication of  the  picture. 

§  2.  Cast  your  eyes  next  then  on  that  higher  inclosure,  (pro- 
ceeded the  old  man)  and  take  notice  of  the  women  on  the  outside 
thereof.  You  observe  how  wantonly  they  are  drest.  The  first 
of  them  is  Incontinence,  loosely  zoned,  her  bosom  bare  ;  and  the 
other  three  are,  Riot,  Covetousness,  and  Flattery.  They  watch 
for  the  favourites  of  fortune.  You  see  they  caress  them,  and  try 
to  bring  them  to  the  pleasures  of  their  soft  retreat ;  where  the 
bowl  sparkles,  the  song  resounds,  and  joys  to  joys  succeed  in  every 
jocund  hour.  But  at  length  Distress  appears,  and  the  favourite  of 
a  day  discovers,  that  his  happiness  was  merely  imaginary — under 
a  delusion  ;  but  the  evils  that  attend  his  pleasures  real.  When 


444  THE  LIFE  OF 


he  has  wasted  all  he  had  received  from  fortune,  he  is  forced  to 
enter  himself  into  the  service  of  those  mistresses,  and  by  them 
compelled  to  dare  the  foulest  and  most  desperate  deeds  ;  villain 
and  knave  he  becomes  ;  stabs  for  a  purse  ;  his  country  sells  for 
gold  ;  and  by  deceit  and  sacrilege,  by  perjury,  treachery,  and 
theft,  endeavours  for  some  time  to  live.  But  shiftless  at  length, 
and  unable  to  acquire  support  by  crimes,  they  are  consigned  to  the 
dire  gripe  of  Punishment. 

T.  What  is  she,  I  beg  you  will  inform  us  ? 

O.  Look  beyond  those  women,  called  the  Opinions,  (continued 
the  old  man)  and  you  will  see  a  low  gate,  opening  into  a  dark  and 
narrow  cave  :  you  may  observe  at  the  entrance  of  it,  three  female 
figures  very  swarthy  and  foul,  covered  with  rags  and  filthiness  ; 
and  near  them,  standing  naked  by  their  side,  a  frightful  lean 
man.  *  Close  to  him  is  another  woman,  so  meagre  and  ghastly  you 
perceive,  that  it  is  not  possible  for  any  thing  to  resemble  him 
more. 

T.  We  see  them,  and  request  to  be  informed  who  they  are  ? 

0.  The  first  with  a  whip  in  her  hand,  is  Punishment,  and  next 
to  her  sits  Sadness,  with  her  head  reclining  on  her  knees  ;  that 
woman  tearing  her  hair  is  Trouble  ;  the  naked  lean  man  is  Sorrow, 
and  the  image  by  his  side  wild  Despair.  You  see  they  are  all 
going  to  seize  the  unhappy  man  of  pleasure,  and  make  him  feel 
the  greatest  pain  and  anguish.  For  they  carry  him  to  the  house 
of  Misery,  and  in  the  pit  of  Woe  he  is  to  pass  the  remainder  of 
life,  unless  Repentance  comes  to  his  relief. 

T.  And  what  then  follows,  (  I  said)  if  Repentance  interposes  ? 

O.  She  rescues  him  from  his  tormentors,  and  gives  a  new  view 
of  things.  He  has  from  her  some  account  of  true  learning,  but 
the  hint  so  short,  that  it  may  lead  him  likewise  to  false  learning. 
If  he  be  so  happy  as  to  understand,  and  chuse  right,  he  is  delivered 
from  prejudice  and  error,  and  passes  the  rest  of  his  days  in  tran- 
quillity and  peace  :  but  if  he  be  mistaken,  instead  of  wisdom,  he 
only  gains  that  amusing  counterfeit,  which  turns  him  from  vices 
to  studious  folly. 

T.  Great  (I  replied)  are  the  risks  we  mortals  run.  But  who 
is  this  false  learning  ? 

§  3.  O.  At  the  entrance  of  the  second  inclosure,f  you  may  ob- 
serve a  woman  neatly  drest,  and  of  a  good  appearance  ;  decent 
the  port, — spotless  the  form.  This  is  the  counterfeit,  but  the 
vulgar  call  her  true  learning.  Even  the  happy  few,  who  succeed 
in  the  pursuit  of  wisdom,  are  commonly  detained  too  long  by  this 
deceiving  fair  one.  Nor  is  it  strange  ;  for,  skilled  as  she  is  in  all 
the  learning,  and  in  every  art  can  grace  the  head,  you  see  what 

*  This  man  Collier  calls,  an  ill-looking  skeleton  of  a  fellow,  with  scarce  a  tatter  to  his  limbs 
Cant !  The  Greek  is,  TIS  SvtreiSij?  Ae^ro?,  K<XI  vvju.i/os. 

t  The  three  inclosures  in  Cebes,  allude  to  the  division  of  human  life  iato  the  sensual,  the 
studious,  and  the  virtuous. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  445 

crowds  of  admirers  she  has  ;  poets,  orators,  logicians,  musicians, 
arithmeticians,  geometricians,  astrologers,  and  critics. 

T.  But  who,  (I  asked  my  instructor)  are  those  women,  so 
busy  on  every  side,  and  so  earnest  in  their  addresses  to  this  com- 
pany ?  They  look  like  Incontinence  and  her  companions,  and 
the  opinions  whom  you  shewed  us  in  the  first  court.  Do  they 
also  frequent  the  second  inclosure  ? 

O.  Yes,  (replied  the  old  man)  Incontinence  is  sometimes  seen 
here.  The  opinions  do  likewise  enter  ;  for  the  early  portion  these 
men  received  from  Imposture  still  operates.  Ignorance  finds  a 
place  here  ;  and  even  Extravagance  and  Folly.  They  remain 
under  the  power  of  these,  till  having  left  false  learning,  they  enter 
upon  the  path  that  leads  to  Wisdom.  When  they  arrive  at  the 
enlightened  ground  of  Truth,  they  get  her  sovereign  remedy,*  and 
are  freed  from  the  ill  effects  of  Ignorance  and  Error.  This 
enables  them  to  throw  off  the  wild  hypothesis,  the  learned 
romance,  and  to  employ  the  precious  hours  of  life  in  thinking  to 
the  wisest  purposes.  Had  they  staid  with  false  learning,  they 
never  could  have  delivered  themselves  from  these  evils. 

T,  Proceed  then,  I  pray  you,  (said  I)  and  shew  us  the  way  that 
leads  to  Happiness  and  Wisdom. 

§  4.  0.  Do  you  see  (proceeded  the  venerable  man,)  that  rising 
ground,  which  appears  so  desert  and  uninhabited.  You  may 
observe  upon  it  a  little  gate,  that  opens  in  a  narrow  and  unfre- 
quented path  ;  the  avenue  a  rugged  rocky  way.  You  perceive 
a  little  onward,  a  steep  and  craggy  mountain  with  precipices  on 
either  side,  which  sink  to  a  frightful  depth.  This  is  the  way  to 
Wisdom. 

T.  It  seems  a  dreadful  way,  as  painted  in  this  table. 

O.  Yet  higher  still  observe  that  rock,  towards  the  mountain's 
brow,  and  take  notice  of  the  two  figures  which  sit  upon  its  edge, 
and  appear  to  be  as  beautiful  and  comely  as  the  goddess  of  health. 
They  are  sisters  ;  Temperance  the  one,  Patience  the  other.  With 
friendship  in  their  looks,  and  arms  protended  over  the  verge  of  the 
cliff,  you  see  them  lean,  to  encourage  those  who  pass  this  way,  and 
rouze  the  spirits  of  the  fainting  sons  of  Wisdom,  who  has  stationed 
these  two  sisters  there.  They  urge  the  brave  men  on  ;  tell  them 
the  hardships  will  lessen  by  degrees,  the  passage  will  become  more 
easy  and  agreeable  as  they  advance,  and  offer  them  their  assistance 

*  Collier  translates  it, — they  enter  into  a  course  of  physic.  The  Greek  is,  KCU  TTIWSI 
TTTV  KaOapriKriv  Sva^iv  TOVTUV.  And  what  Collier  a  little  before  translates,  "  She  opens  a 
vein,  and  gives  them  a  glass  of  her  constitution :  "  when  they  have  taken  the  stirrup  cup :  brim- 
mers :  the  lasses  frisk  about :  salute  with  a  deal  of  welcome,  and  then  lug  them  off,  some  to 
ruin,  and  some  to  the  gallows."  All  this,  and  much  more  night-cellar  stuff,  the  Theban  philo- 
sopher had  not  an  idea  of,  as  any  one  may  see  who  can  turn  to  the  Greeks.  How  Collier 
learned  such  guard-phrases,  and  why  he  used  them,  seemed  for  some  time  very  strange  to 
me,  till  I  was  informed  by  one  who  knew  this  divine  well,  that  in  the  days  of  his  youth 
he  kept  very  low  company,  and  was  known  at  several  night-houses.  In  that  period  of 
his  life,  he  translated  Cebes. 


THE  LIFE  OF 


to  ascend  the  summit,  and  reach  the  top  of  the  rock.  That 
being  gained,  they  shew  them  the  easiness  and  pleasantness  of  the 
rest  of  the  way  to  wisdom  :  the  charming  road  invites  one's  eyes  : 
how  smooth  and  flowery,  green  and  delightful,  does  it  appear  ! 

T.  It  does  indeed. 

§  5.  O.  Look  next  (the  excellent  old  man  continued)  at  that 
distant  blooming  wood,  and  near  it  you  will  see  a  beautiful 
meadow,  on  which  there  seems  to  fall  a  light  as  from  a  purer 
heaven,  a  kind  of  double  day.  In  this  lightsome  field,*  you  may 
perceive  a  gate  which  opens  into  another  inclosure,  which  is  the 
abode  of  the  blessed.  Here  the  Virtues  dwell  with  Happiness. 
In  this  region  of  eternal  beauty,  the  righteous  rest. 

T.  It  does  appear  a  charming  place. 

O.  Observe  then  near  the  portal,  a  beauteous  form  of  a  com- 
posed aspect  :  She  seems  mature  in  life,  and  her  robe  is  quite 
plain,  without  affectation  or  ornaments.  Her  eyes  are  piercing  ; 
her  mien  sedate  :  she  stands  not  on  a  globe,  like  Fortune,  but  upon 
a  cube  of  marble,  fixed  as  the  rock  she  is  on  before  the  gate.  You 
see  on  either  side  of  her  two  lovely  nymphs,  the  very  copies  of  her 
looks  and  air.  This  matron  in  the  middle  is  true  learning, 
Wisdom  herself  ;  and  the  two  young  beauties  are  Truth  and 
Persuasion.  Her  standing  on  a  square,  is  an  expressive  type  of 
certainty  in  the  way  to  her  ;t  ^d  denotes  the  unalterable  and 
permanent  nature  of  the  blessings  she  bestows  on  those  who  come 
to  her.  From  her  they  receive  courage  and  serenity  ;  that  con- 
fidence and  contempt  of  fear,  which  exempts  the  happy  possessors 
from  any  disturbance,  by  the  accidents  and  calamities  of  life. 

T.  These  are  valuable  gifts.  But  why  without  the  walls  does 
Wisdom  stand  ? 

O.  To  present  the  purifying  bowl  to  those  who  approach,  and 
restore  them  to  themselves.  As  a  physician  by  degrees  first  finds 
out  the  cause  of  a  violent  disorder,  and  then  removes  it,  in  order  to 
restore  the  man  to  health  ;  so  Wisdom,  as  she  knows  their  malady 
administers  her  sovereign  medicine,  and  frees  them  from  all  their 
evils.  She  expels  the  mischiefs  they  had  received  from  delusion, 
their  ignorance  and  error,  and  delivers  them  from  pride,  lust, 
anger,  avarice,  and  all  the  other  vices  they  had  contracted  in 
the  first  inclosure.  In  a  word,  she  restores  them  to  sanity,  and 
then  sends  them  in  to  Happiness  and  the  Virtues. 

T.  Who  are  they  ?  (I  said). 

§  6.  O.  Do  you  not  see  within  the  gate,  (my  instructor  replied) 
a  society  of  matrons,  beautiful  and  modest,  drest,  unaffected, 
and  without  any  thing  of  the  gay  excess  ?  These  are  Science  and 
her  sisters,  Fortitude,  Justice,  and  Integrity,  Temperance, 


cr*rvl«  T*  vpivwmr, 


JOHN  BUXCLE,  ESQ.  447 

Modesty,  Liberality,  Continence,  Clemency,  and  Patience.  They 
hail  their  guests,  and  the  company  seem  to  be  in  raptures. 

T.  But  when  the  friends  to  virtue  are  admitted  into  this  charm- 
ing society,  where  do  they  lead  them  to  ? 

O.  See  you  not  ^resumed  the  good  old  man,)  the  hill  beyond  the 
grove  ;  that  eminence  which  is  the  highest  point  of  all  the  inclos- 
ures,  and  commands  a  boundless  prospect.  There,  on  a  glorious 
throne,  you  may  observe  a  majestic  person  in  her  bloom,  well 
drest,  but  without  art  or  lavish  cost,  and  her  temples  adorned 
with  a  beautiful  tiar  :  this  is  Happiness,  the  regent  of  that  blessed 
abode,  and  as  the  moral  heroes  approach  her,  you  may  perceive 
her,  with  the  Virtues  who  stand  assistant  round  her,  going  to 
reward  the  friends  of  wisdom  with  such  crowns  as  are  bestowed 
on  conquerors. 

T.  Conquerors  !  (I  said)  In  what  conflicts  have  these  persons 
been  victorious  ? 

O.  They  have,  in  their  way  to  the  realm  of  Happiness,  destroyed 
the  most  formidable  and  dangerous  monsters,  who  would  have 
destroyed  them,  if  they  had  not  been  subdued  ;  these  savage 
beasts  at  war  with  man  are,  ignorance  and  error  ;  grief,  vexation, 
avarice,  intemperance,  and  every  thing  that  is  evil.  These  are 
vanquished  and  have  lost  all  their  power.  The  moral  hero 
triumphs  now,  though  their  slave  before. 

r.  Great  achievements  indeed  !  A  glorious  conquest.  But 
exclusive  of  the  honour  of  being  crowned  by  Happiness  and  the 
Virtues,  is  there  any  salutary  power  in  the  crown  that  adorns  the 
hero's  head  ? 

O.  There  is,  young  man.  The  virtue  of  it  is  great.  Possessing 
this,  he  is  happy  and  blessed.  He  derives  his  felicity  from  no 
external  object,  but  from  himself  alone. 

T.  O  happy  victory  !  And  being  thus  crowned,  what  does 
the  hero  do,  where  next  his  steps  ? 

O.  Conducted  by  the  Virtues,  he  goes  back  to  survey  his  first 
abode,  and  see  the  crowd  he  left ;  how  miserably  they  pass  their 
time  ;  waste  all  their  hours  in  crimes,  and  in  the  whirl  of  passions 
live.  Slaves  to  ambition,  pride,  incontinence,  vanity,  and  avarice 
they  appear  tormented  with  endless  anxiety.  They  have  forgot 
the  instructions  the  good  genius  gave  them,  at  their'entrance  into 
life,  and  suffer  thus  because  they  cannot  nnd  the  way  to  Wisdom. 

7\  True  :  (I  said)  But  I  cannot  comprehend,  why  the  Virtues 
should  bring  the  heroes  back  to  the  place  they  came  from  :  why 
should  they  return  to  view  a  well-known  scene  ? 

O.  The  reason  (answered  my  instructor)  is,  because  they  had 
,not  a  true  idea  what  they  had  seen.  Surrounded  by  a"  con- 
fusion of  things  as  they  passed  on.  they  could  not  distinctly 
perceive  what  was  done.  The  mists  of  ignorance  and  error 
obscured  the  prospect  as  they  journeyed  on,  and  by  that  means, 


448  THE  LIFE  OF 


they  were  subject  to  mistakes.  They  could  not  always  distin- 
guish between  good  and  evil.  But  now  that  they  have  attained 
to  true  learning,  with  concern  they  behold  the  mad  world  the 
virtues  shew  them  again,  and  being  enlightened  by  wisdom,  are 
perfectly  happy  in  themselves.  The  misery  of  the  numberless 
fools  they  behold  now,  strikes  them  very  strongly,  and  gives  them 
a  delightful  relish  for  their  present  happiness. 

T.  It  must  be  so.  And  when  they  have  seen  these  things, 
where  do  they  then  go  ? 

O.  Wherever  they  please.  Safely  they  may  travel  where  they 
will  :  in  all  times,  and  in  all  places  they  are  secure,  as  their  integrity 
is  their  defence.  Every  where  they  live  esteemed  and  beloved 
by  all.  The  female  monsters  I  have  mentioned,  Grief,  Trouble 
Lust,  Avarice,  or  Poverty,  have  now  no  power  to  hurt  them  ; 
but  as  if  possessed  of  some  virtuous  drug,  they  can  grasp  the 
viper,  and  defy  destruction. 

T.  What  you  say  is  just.  But  who  are  all  these  persons  des- 
cending the  hill  ? 

O.  Those  that  are  crowned  (the  old  man  said)  are  the  happy 
few  I  have  described.  You  see  what  joy  is  in  their  faces  :  and 
those  who  seem  forlorn  and  desperate,  under  the  command  of 
certain  women,  are  such  who  by  their  folly  have  not  found  the 
way  to  true  learning  ;  or  stopping  at  the  rough  and  narrow 
ascent  you  observed,  went  to  look  for  an  easier  path,  and  so  quite 
lost  the  road.  The  tormentors  who  drive  them  on  are,  Trouble, 
Despair,  Ignominy,  and  Ignorance.  Wretched  you  see  them 
return  into  the  first  inclosure,  to  Luxury  and  Incontinence ; 
and  yet  they  do  not  accuse  themselves  as  the  authors  of  their  own 
ruin,  which  is  very  strange  ;  but  rail  at  Wisdom,  and  revile  her 
ways  ;  asserting,  that  the  true  pleasures  of  life  are  only  to  be 
found  in  luxury  and  riot.  Like  the  brutes,  they  place  the  whole 
satisfaction  of  man  in  the  gratification  of  sensual  appetite. 

T.  But  who  are  those  other  lovely  women,  who  return  down  the 
hill  so  full  of  gaiety  and  mirth  ? 

O.  They  are  the  Opinions,  who  having  conducted  the  virtuous 
to  the  region  of  light,  are  coming  back  to  invite  and  carry  others 
thither,  by  shewing  them  the  felicity  and  success  of  those  they 
brought  to  the  mansion  of  Wisdom. 

T.  And  do  the  Opinions  never  enter  with  those  they  bring  into 
that  happy  place,  where  the  virtues  and  true  learning  reside  ? 

O.  No  :  Opinion  can  never  reach  to  science  ;  they  only  deliver 
their  charge  into  the  hands  of  Wisdom,  and  then,  hke  ships  that 
give  up  their  lading,  in  order  to  sail  for  a  new  cargo,  they  return 
to  bring  other  Eleves  to  reason  and  felicity. 

T.  This  explanation  of  the  table  (I  said)  is  quite  satisfactory  : 
but  you  have  not  yet  informed  us,  what  the  good  genius  bids  the 
multitude  do,  as  they  appear  on  the  verge  of  life  ? 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  449 

O.  He  charges  them  to  act  with  courage  and  be  magnanimous 
and  brave  in  all  events  ;  a  thing  I  recommend  to  you,  young  man  ; 
and  that  you  may  have  a  true  idea  of  this,  I  will  tell  you  what  I 
mean  by  a  bold  spirit  in  passing  through  this  world. 

§  7.  O.  Then  lifting  up  his  arm  again,  and  pointing  with  his 
wand  to  a  figure  in  the  picture  ;  that  blind  woman  standing 
on  a  globe,  as  I  told  you  before,  is  Fortune.  The  genius  for- 
bids us  to  trust  her,  or  imagine  her  smiles  will  be  lasting  happi- 
ness. Reason  is  never  concerned  in  what  she  does.  It  is  Fortune 
still ;  without  principle  she  acts,  is  arbitrary  and  capricious,  and 
inconsiderately  and  rashly  for  ever  proceeds.  Regard  not  then 
her  favours,  nor  mind  her  frowns  :  but  as  she  gives  and  takes 
away,  and  often  deprives  of  what  we  had  before,  we  are  neither  to 
esteem  or  despise  her  ;  but  if  we  should  receive  from  her  a  gift,  take 
care  to  employ  it  immediately  to  some  good  purpose,  and  especially 
in  the  acquisition  of  true  science,  the  most  lasting  and  precious 
possession.  If  we  act  otherwise,  in  respect  of  Fortune,  we  imitate 
those  wretched  usurers,  who  rejoice  at  the  money  paid  in  to  them, 
as  if  they  received  it  for  their  own  use  ;  but  pay  it  back  with  re- 
gret, forgetting  the  condition,  that  it  was  to  be  returned  to  the 
proprietor  on  demand.  Regardless  of  Fortune  then,  and  all  her 
changes  in  this  mortal  life,  the  genius  advises  to  pass  bravely  on, 
without  hearkening  to  the  solicitations  of  Incontinence  and 
Luxury  in  the  first  inclosure,  to  reject  their  temptations,  and  go 
on  to  false  learning  :  with  her  he  would  have  us  make  a  short 
stay,  to  learn  what  may  be  of  service  to  us  in  our  journey  to 
wisdom.  This  is  the  advice  of  the  genius  to  those  who  enter  into 
life. 

T,  Here  the  good  old  man  had  done,  and  I  thanked  him  for  his 
explanation  of  the  picture.  Only  one  thing  (I  said)  there  was 
more,  which  I  must  request  he  would  tell  me  the  meaning  of. 
What  is  it  we  can  get  by  our  stay  with  false  learning  ? 

O.  Things  (he  answered)  that  may  be  of  use  to  us.  The 
languages  and  other  parts  of  education,  which  Plato  recommends, 
may  hinder  us  from  being  worse  employed,  and  keep  us  from 
illicit  gratification.  They  are  not  absolutely  necessary  to  true 
happiness  ;  but  they  contribute  to  make  us  better.  Something 
good  and  useful  they  do  afford  ;  though  virtue,  which  ought  to  be 
the  principal  business  in  view  may  be  acquired  without  them.  We 
may  become  wise  without  the  assistance  of  the  arts,  though 
(as  observed  before),  they  are  far  from  being  useless  :  as  by 
a  good  translation  made  into  our  own  tongue,  we  may  know 
what  an  author  means,  and  yet  by  taking  the  pains  to  become 
masters  of  the  original  language,  might  gain  many  advantages, 
such  as  entering  better  into  the  writer's  sense,  and  discovering 
some  beauties  which  cannot  otherwise  be  found  :  so  the  useful 
things  in  the  sciences  may  be  very  quickly  and  easily  learned,  and 


450  THE  LIFE  OF 


though  by  great  labour  in  becoming  accurately  acquainted  with 
them,  we  might  fill  our  heads  with  speculations,  yet  this  cannot 
make  us  the  wiser  and  better  men.  Without  being  learned,  we 
may  be  wise  and  good. 

T.  And  are  the  learned  then  in  no  better  a  condition  than  the 
people  in  respect  of  moral  excellence  ?  (I  said).  Are  the  specu- 
lations of  the  scholar,  and  the  arts  and  fine  inventions  of  the 
schools,  of  no  use  in  perfecting  the  moral  character  ?  This  to  me 
seems  a  little  strange. 

O.  Blind  as  the  crowd  is  the  men  of  letters,  in  this  particular 
(my  instructor  replied)  :  all  his  studies  and  curious  knowledge 
have  no  relation  to  his  living  right.  With  all  the  tongues,  and 
all  the  arts,  he  may  be  a  libertine,  a  sot,  a  miser,  or  a  knave, 
a  traitor  to  his  country,  and  have  no  moral  character  at  all.  This 
we  see  every  day. 

T.  But  what  is  the  cause  of  so  strange  a  thing,  I  requested  to 
know  ?  I  observe  that  these  men  of  letters  seem  to  sit  down 
contented  in  the  second  inclosure,  and  do  not  attempt  to  go  on 
to  the  third,  where  Wisdom  resides  ;  though  they  see  continually 
before  their  eyes  so  many  passing  on  from  the  first  court,  where  they 
had  lived,  for  some  time  in  lewdness  and  excess,  to  the  habitation 
of  true  learning. 

O.  It  is  their  remaining  in  this  second  inclosure,  that  occasions 
their  being  inferior  in  moral  things  to  those  who  have  not  had 
a  learned  education.  Proud  and  self-sufficient  on  account  of  their 
languages,  arts,  and  sciences,  they  despise  what  Wisdom  could 
teach  them,  and  will  not  give  themselves  the  trouble  of  ascending 
with  difficulty  to  the  mansion  of  true  learning.  They  have  no 
taste  for  the  lessons  of  Wisdom  ;  while  the  humble  mount  to  her 
exalted  dwelling,  those  scholars,  as  you  see,  are  satisfied  with 
their  speculations  and  vain  conceits.  Dull  and  untractable  in  the 
improvement  of  their  hearts,  and  regardless  of  that  exact  recti- 
tude of  mind  and  life,  which  is  only  worth  a  rational' s  toiling  for 
(as  he  is  an  Eleve  for  eternity),  they  never  think  of  true  wisdom, 
nor  mind  her  offered  light.  Their  curious  ingenious  notions,  are 
what  they  only  have  a  relish  for  ;  the  imaginations  of  those  men 
of  letters  cannot  reach  that  ineffable  peace  and  contentment,  that 
satisfaction  and  pleasure,  which  flow  from  a  virtuous  life  and  an 
honest  heart.  This  is  the  case  of  our  learned  heads,  unless  re- 
pentance interferes  to  make  them  humble,  and  scatters  the  vain 
visions  they  had  from  false  opinion. 

This,  concluded  the  venerable  teacher,  is  the  explication  of 
this  parable  or  allegory.  May  you  oft  revolve  upon  these  lessons 
and  lend  your  whole  attention  to  the  attainment  of  true  wisdom, 
that  you  may  not  embrace  the  shadow,  the  speculations  and 
inventions  of  the  learned,  but,  by  this  instruction,  acquire  the 
true  principles  of  morality  and  goodness. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  45 1 

This  is  not  all  the  Table  of  Cebes.  There  follows  a  disputation  in  the  Socratic  method 
concerning  the  claim  of  wealth,  and  other  externals,  to  the  title  of  good  things  :  but  it  is  dry, 
and  no  part  of  the  picture  or  mythology.  For  this  reason  I  stop  here. 

As  to  the  picture  of  Cebes,  it  is  to  be  sure  a  fine  thing,  and  greatly  to  the  honour  of  the 
Theban  philosopher,  who  was  one  of  the  disciples  of  Socrates  ;  and  about  twenty  at  the  time 
of  the  death  of  his  master  :  Socrates  died  by  the  executioner,  in  the  70  year  of  his  age,  before 
our  Lord  402.  Cebes  was  about  eighty,  at  the  birth  of  Epicurus. 

But  after  all  that  can  be  said  in  praise  of  this  excellent  remain  of  antiquity,  still  the  little 
system  of  ethics  is  but  a  poor  performance,  in  respect  of  any  section  of  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
Cebes  says  nothing  of  the  Deity  :  nor  does  he  mention  the  mischiefs  of  vice,  and  the  beneri  ts 
of  virtue,  as  a  divine  constitxition. 

An  Apostle,  on  the  contrary,  (to  mention  only  one  particular  out  of  a  thousand  from  the 
Christian  books,)  calls  to  the  human  race  in  the  following  manner  :  "  I  beseech  you,  brethren, 
by  the  mercies  of  Almighty  God,  the  Father  of  the  Universe,  who  hath  graciously  admitted 
you  to  the  faith,  and  revealed  the  terms  of  acceptance  ;  that  ye  present  your  bodies  now  a 
living  sacrifice,  holy  and  acceptable  to  the  Deity,  which  is  the  reasonable  and  spiritual  service 
required  of  you  in  the  time  of  the  gospel ;  and  not  offer  the  bodies  of  beasts  any  more  as 
the  Heathen  world  were  wont  to  do. 

"And,  as  persons  now  wholly  devoted  to  the  Lord  of  heaven  and  earth,  be  not  cmifouu;  id 
to  the  fashions  and  ways  of  this  world  ;  but  be  ye  transformed  by  the  renewing  of  your  mind  ; 
that  ye  may  prove  what  is  the  good,  the  acceptable,  and  perfect  will  of  God.  Abhor  that 
which  is  evil,  in  all  your  dealings  :  cleave  to  that  which  is  good  :  let  love  be  without  dis- 
simulation ;  and  be  kindly  affectioned  one  to  another  ;  not  advancing,  but  in  honour  pre- 
ferring one  another.  Be  not  slothful  in  business,  but  fervent  in  spirit ;  as  serving  the  Lord 
Jehovah  in  your  several  stations.  Rejoice  in  hope  of  a  refreshment  to  come,  in  the  real  s 
of  bliss  :  be  patient  in  tribulation,  which  God  will  reward  and  continue  instant  in  pruy< •'-. 

"  In  sum,  let  us  follow  the  steps  of  Christ,  and  in  imitation  of  his  divine  humility,  his  devo- 
tion, his  love,  be  for  ever  meek  and  forbearing,  gentle  and  charitable,  and  live  in  the  spirit  o1. 
prayer." 

What  is  there  in  the  Table  of  Cebes  like  this  spiritual  and  religious  virtue,  this  love  to  r.  >,1, 
this  zeal  for  his  honour  and  service,  and  an  entire  dependence  upon  him  in  all  condition-  ot 
life  ?  The  virtues  of  the  heroes  of  antiquity  are  noble  and  excellent  qualities  ;  their  courage, 
and  justice,  and  temperance,  and  gratitude,  and  love  to  their  country  are  fine  things  :  but 
they  seem  to  have  been  calculated  for  the  civil  life.  Those  heroes  were  virtuous  without  being 
pious,  and  appear  rather  as  self-sufficient  independent  beings,  than  as  servants  and  vut.-irics 
of  God  Almighty.  It  is  these  Christian  virtues  I  have  mentioned,  that  adorn  and  jvrhrt 
human  nature.  It  is  these  things  that  mostly  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  the  world, 
and  of  every  man  in  it. 

N.  B.  Scott,  at  the  end  of  his  Notes  on  Cebes,  has  the  following  remark.  If  this  philosophf  r 
had  represented  the  effects  of  virtue  and  vice  as  a  divine  constitution,  he  would  have  ennobled 
his  instruction,  and  done  greater  service  to  the  interests  of  morality.  But  those  important 
interests  are  effectually  provided  for  by  revelation.  There  the  precepts  of  virtue  are  the  lav  , 
of  God.  There  we  find  a  clear  and  complete  system  of  his  will.  There  our  obedience  is 
encouraged  by  hope  in  his  pardoning  mercy  and  powerful  assistance,  by  the  life,  death,  and 
resurrection  of  his  own  son  ;  and  by  promises  and  threatnings  which  extend  the  reward  of 
righteousness,  and  the  punishment  of  wickedness  unto  a  future  state  of  existence. 

No.  II. 

THE    TENTH    SATIRE  *    OF   JUVENAL. 

Survey  mankind,  muster  the  herd 
From 'smoothest  chin  to  deepest  beard  ; 
Search  ev'ry  climate,  view  each  nation, 
From  lowest  to  the  highest  station  ; 
From  Eastern  to  the  Western  Indies, 
From  frozen  Poles  to  th'  line  that  singes  ; 
Scarce  will  you  find  one  mortal  wight, 
Knows  good  from  ill,  or  wrong  from  right : 
'Cause  clouds  of  lust  and  passion  blind, 
And  bribe  with  interests  the  mind  ; 
And  while  they  combat  in  our  heart, 
Our  fondness  crowns  the  conqu'ring  part. 
What  is  the  thing  under  the  sun, 

*  The  design  of  this  fine  Satire  is  to  shew,  that  endowments  and  blessings  of  the  mind, 
as  wisdom,  virtue,  justice,  and  integrity  of  life  are  the  only  things  worth  praying  for. 


452  THE  LIFE  OF 


That  we  with  reason  seek  or  shun  ? 

Or  justly  by  our  judgment  weigh'd, 

Should  make  us  fond  of,  or  afraid  ? 

Whate'er  is  luckily  begun, 

Brings  sure  repentance  at  long-run. 

The  distant  object  looming  great, 

Possest  proves  oft  an  empty  cheat ; 

And  he  who  wins  the  wish'd-for  prize, 

A  trouble  often  dearly  buys. 

Some  for  their  family  importune, 

And  beg  their  ruin  for  a  fortune. 

The  courteous  gods  granting  their  prayers, 

Have  intail'd  curses  on  their  heirs. 

Of  wizards  some  inquire  their  doom, 

Greedy  to  know  events  to  come, 

And  by  their  over  caution  run 

On  the  same  fate  they  strove  to  shun  : 

Some  have  petition'd  to  be  great, 

And  eminent  in  church  and  state. 

This  in  the  war's  a  famous  leader, 

T'other  at  bar  a  cunning  pleader, 

The  cause  on  either  side  insure  you, 

By  dint  of  noise  stun  judge  and  jury  : 

And  if  business  won't  bear  water, 

Banter  and  perplex  the  matter. 

But  their  obstrep'rous  eloquence 

Has  fail'd  ev'n  in  their  own  defence  : 

And  saving  others  by  haranguing, 

Have  brought  themselves  at  last  to  hanging. 

Milo  presuming  on  his  strength, 

Caus'd  his  own  destiny  at  length. 

The  greedy  care  of  heaping  wealth, 
Damns  many  a  soul  and  ruins  health, 
And  in  an  apoplectic  fit, 
Sinks  them  downright  into  the  pit. 
How  many  upstarts  crept  from  low 
Condition,  vast  possessions  show  ? 
Whose  estate's  audit  so  immense 
Exceeds  all  prodigal  expence. 
With  which  compare  that  spot  of  earth, 
To  which  these  mushrooms  owe  their  birth  : 
Their  manners  to  dad's  cottage  show, 
As  Greenland  whales  to  dolphins  do. 

In  Nero's  plotting  dismal  times, 
Riches  were  judg'd  sufficient  crimes. 
First  swear  them  traitors  to  the  state, 
Then  for  their  pains  share  their  estate. 
Fat  forfeitures  their  toils  reward  : 
Poor  rogues  may  pass  without  regard. 
Some  are  hook'd  in  for  sense  and  wit, 
And  some  condemn' d  for  want  of  it. 
The  over-rich  Longinus  dies, 
His  bright  heaps  dazzled  envious  eyes 
Neither  could  philosophy, 
Wisdom,  desert,  or  piety, 
Rich  Seneca  from  his  pupil  save, 
'Tis  fit  he  send  him  to  a  grave, 
And  then  resume  the  wealth  he  gave. 

The  guards  the  palaces  beset, 
For  noble  game  they  pitch  their  net : 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  453 

While  from  alarms  and  pangs  of  fear, 
Securely  sleeps  the  cottager. 
If  you  by  night  shall  happen  late, 
To  travel  with  a  charge  of  plate  ; 
With  watchful  eyes  and  panting  heart, 
Surpriz'd,  each  object  makes  you  start : 
While  rack'd  with  doubts,  opprest  with  fear, 
Each  bush  does  an  arm'd  thief  appear  : 
A  shaken  reed  will  terror  strike, 
Mistaken  for  a  brandish' d  pike. 
Before  the  thief,  the  empty  clown  * 
Sings  unconcern' d  and  travels  on 

With  warm  petitions  most  men  ply 
The  gods,  their  bags  may  multiply  ; 
That  riches  may  grow  high  and  rank, 
Outswelling  others  in  the  bank. 
But  from  plain  wood  and  earthen  cups, 
No  poison'd  draught  the  peasant  sups. 
Of  the  gold  goblet  take  thou  care, 
When  sparkling  wine's  spic'd  by  thy  heir  : 
Then  who  can  blame  that  brace  of  wise  men, 
That  in  diff  ring  moods  despise  men  : 
Th'  old  merry  lad  saunters  the  streets 
And  laughs,  and  drolls  at  all  he  meets  : 
For  pastime  rallies,  flouts,  and  fools  'em, 
Shams,  banters,  mimics,  ridicules  'em. 
The  other  sage  in  maudlin g  wise, 
Their  errors  mourns  with  weeping  eyes. 
Dull  fools  with  ease  can  grin  and  sneer, 
And  buffoons  flout  with  saucy  jeer. 
What  source  could  constant  tears  supply, 
To  feed  the  sluices  of  each  eye  ; 
Or  t'others  merry  humour  make, 
His  spleen  continually  to  shake  ? 
Could  he  in  sober  honest  times 
With  sharp  conceit  tax  petty  crimes  : 
And  every  where  amongst  the  rout, 
Find  follies  for  his  wit  to  flout ;  t 
Which  proves  that  Gotham  and  gross  climes, 
Produce  prodigious  wits  sometimes. 
The  joys  and  fears  of  the  vain  crowd, 
And  whimp'ring  tears  he'd  jeer  aloud  ; 
Wisely  secure,  fortune  deride, 
By  foppish  mortals  deified  : 
Bid  her  be  hang'd,  and  laugh  at  fate, 
When  threat'ned  at  the  highest  rate  ; 


*  The  Latin  of  these  two  lines  is — 

Cantabit  vacuus  coram  latrone  viator. 
Which  Dryden  translates  thus  : 

The  beggar  sings,  ev'n  when  he  sees  the  place 
Beset  with  thieves,  and  never  mends  his  pace. 

Shadwell,  who  was  Poet  Laureate  in  King  William's  time,  does  it  thus  : 
While  the  poor  man,  void  of  all  precious  things, 
In  company  of  thieves,  jogs  on  and  sings. 
Barton  Holiday  thus  : 

Before  the  thief,  who  travels  empty,  sings. 
And  Stapylton  thus : 

The  poor  wayfaring  man,  that  doth  not  bring 
A  charge  along,  before  the  thief  will  sing, 
t  Juvenal  here  means  Democritus, 


454  THE  LIFE  OF 


Whilst  fools  for  vain  and  hurtful  things, 
Pour  out  their  prayers  and  offerings, 
Fast'ning  petitions  on  the  knees,* 
Of  their  regardless  deities. 

For  place  and  power,  how  many  men  vie, 
Procuring  mortal  hate  and  envy  ; 
Heralds  long-winded  titles  sound, 
Which  the  vain  owners  oft  confound. 
Down  go  their  statues  in  disgrace  ; 
The  party  hangs  up  in  the  place. 
In  rage  they  break  chariot  triumphant, 
Because  a  knave  'fore  set  his  rump  on't : 
Poor  horses  suffer  for  no  fault, 
Unless  by  bungling  workmen  wrought. 
The  founder's  furnace  grows  red  hot, 
Se Janus'  statue  goes  to  pot : 
That  head  lately  ador'd,  and  reckon'd 
In  all  th'  universe  the  second, 
Melted,  new  forms  and  shapes  assumes, 
Of  p — pots,  frying-pans,  and  spoons,  f 
The  crowd  o'erjoyed  that  Cxsar's  living, 
Petition  for  a  new  thanksgiving  ; 
How  the  base  rout  insult  to  see 
Se janus  dragg'd  to  destiny.  % 

Would  you  on  these  conditions,  Sir, 
Be  favourite  and  prime  minister, 
As  was  Se  janus  ?     Stand  possest 
Of  honours,  power,  and  interest ; 
Dispose  supreme  commands  at  will, 
Promote,  disgrace,  preserve,  or  kill ; 
Have  foot  and  horse-guards,  the  command 
Of  armies  both  by  sea  and  land. 
Had  you  not  better  ask  in  prayer, 
To  be  some  petty  country  mayor  ; 
There  domineer,  and  when  your  pleasure's 

*  The  Latin  of  these  two  lines  is — 

Propter  qua}  fas  est  genua  incerare  deorum. 
Which  Dryden  does  not  translate  at  all.     His  lines  are — 

He  laughs  at  all  the  vulgar  cares  and  fears  : 
At  their  vain  triumphs,  and  their  vainer  tears  : 
An  equal  temper  in  his  mind  he  found, 
When  Fortune  flatter'd  him,  and  when  she  frown'd : 
'  Tis  plain  from  hence  that  what  our  vows  request, 
Are  hurtful  things,  or  useless  at  the  best. 

t  Dryden's  translation  of  this  passage  is  thus : 

Se  janus,  almost  first  of  Roman  names, 
The  great  Sejanus,  crackles  in  the  flames: 
Form'd  in  the  forge,  the  pliant  brass  is  laid 
On  anvils.    And  of  head  and  limbs  are  made, 
Pans,  cans,  and  piss-pots,  a  whole  kitchen  trade. 
The  Latin  is : 

Jam  strident  ignes,  jam  follibus  atque  caminis 
Ardet  adoratum  populo  caput,  et  crepat  ingens 
Sejanus.     Deinde  ex  facie  toto  orbe  secunda 
Fiunt  urceoli,  pelves,  sartago,  patella?. 

t  Sejanus,  the  vile  minister  of  Tiberius,  was  executed  by  order  of  the  Emperor,  A.D.  31, 
and  to  prevent  his  suspecting  any  such  thing,  and  providing  against  the  calamity,  which  the 
favourite  might  easily  have  done,  as  he  commanded  the  Prastorians,  and  had  all  power  given 
him,  his  master  named  him  his  colleague  in  the  consulship  ;  which  of  all  things  Sejanus 
most  desired,  and  thought  the  highest  mark  of  his  sovereign's  affection,  So  true  it  is  that  we 
know  not  what  we  wish  for, 


JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ.  455 

Condemn  light  weights,  break  false  measures  ; 

Though  meanly  clad  in  safe  estate, 

Than  chuse  Sejanus'  robes  and  fate  ? 

Se janus  then,  we  must  conclude, 

Courting  his  bane,  mistook  the  good, 

Crassus  and  Pompey's  fate  of  old, 

The  truth  of  this  sure  maxim  told  : 

And  his  who  first  bow'd  Rome's  stiff  nerk. 

And  made  the  world  obey  his  beck.* 

The  novice  in  his  accidence, 
Dares  pray  his  wit  and  eloquence 
May  rival  Roman  Cicero's  fame, 
And  Greek  Demosthenes'  high  name  : 
Yet  to  both  these  their  swelling  vein 
Of  wit  and  fancy  prov'd  their  bane. 
No  pleading  dunce's  jobbernowl 
Revenge  e'er  doom'd  to  grace  a  pole. 

The  trophies  which  the  vanquish' d  field 
Do  to  the  glorious  victors  yield, 
Triumphant  conquerors  can  bless, 
With  more  than  human  happiness  : 
This,  Roman,  Grecian,  and  barbarian, 
Spurr'd  to  acts  hazardous  and  daring  ; 
In  sweat  and  blood  spending  their  days, 
For  empty  fame,  and  fading  bays. 
'Tis  the  immoderate  thirst  of  fame 
Much  more  than  virtue  does  inflame  : 
Which  none  for  worse  or  better  take, 
But  for  her  dower  and  trappings'  sake. 
The  fond  ambition  of  a  few, 
Many  vast  empires  overthrew  ; 
While  their  achievements  with  their  dust, 
They  vainly  to  their  tombstones  trust. 
For  sepulchres  like  bodies  lie, 
Swallow'd  in  death's  obscurity.t 

Behold  how  small  an  urn  contains 
The  mighty  Hannibal's  remains  : 
That  hero  whose  vast  swelling  mind 
To  Afric  could  not  be  confin'd  : 
Nature's  impediments  he  past, 
And  came  to  Italy  at  last : 
There,  after  towns  and  battles  won, 
He  cries,  comrades,  there's  nothing  done, 
Unless  our  conqu'ring  powers 
Break  down  Rome's  gates,  level  her  towers, 

*  Julius  Caesar,  who  acquired  the  sovereign  sway  by  art  and  slaughter,  and  when  a  tyrant 
fell  by  his  own  desires. 

t  The  Latin  of  this  passage,  which  is  truly  beautiful,  is  : 
Et  laudis  titulique  Cupido 

Haesuri  saxis  cinerum  custodibus  :  ad  qua? 

Discutienda  valent  sterilis  mala  robora  ficus  : 

Quandoquidem  data  sunt  ipsis  quoque  fata  sepulchris. 
Dryden  renders  in  the  following  manner : 

This  avarice  of  praise  in  times  to  come, 

Those  long  inscriptions  crowded  on  the  tomb, 

Should  some  wild  fig-tree  take  her  native  bent, 

And  heave  below  the  gaudy  monument, 

Would  crack  the  marble  titles,  and  disperse 

The  characters  of  all  the  lying  verse. 

For  sepulchres  themselves  must  crumbling  fall 

In  time's  abyss,  the  common  grave  of  alL 


456  THE  LIFE  OF 


Root  up  her  posts,  and  break  her  chains, 

And  knock  out  all  opposers'  brains  : 

Whilst  our  troops  scour  the  city  thorough, 

And  fix  our  standard  in  Saburra.* 

But  what  catastrophe  of  fate, 

His  conduct's  baffled,  army's  broke, 

Carthage  puts  upon  the  Roman  yoke  : 

Whilst  flight  and  banishment's  his  fate, 

His  ruin'd  country's  scorn  and  hate. 

Go,  madman,  act  thy  frantic  part, 

Climb  horrid  Alps,  with  pains  and  art, 

Go,  madman,  to  be  with  mighty  reputation, 

The  subject  of  a  declamation.! 

One  world's  too  mean,  a  trifling  thing, 
For  the  young  Macedonian  king  ; 
He  raves  like  one  in  banishment, 
In  narrow  craggy  island  pent : 
In  one  poor  globe  does  sweat  and  squeeze, 
Wedg'd  in  and  crampt  in  little-ease. 
But  he  who  human  race  once  scorn'd, 
And  said  high  Jove  King  Philip  horn'd, 
While  manag'd  oracles  declare 
The  spark  great  Ammon's  son  and  heir  ; 
At  Babylon,  for  all  his  huffing, 
Finds  ample  room  in  narrow  coffin. 
Man  swells  with  bombast  of  inventions, 
When  stript,  death  shews  his  true  dimensions. 

So  do  we  read  wild  Xerxes  rent 
Mount  Athos  from  the  continent, 
And  in  a  frolic  made  a  shift, 
To  set  it  in  the  sea  adrift : 
With  ships  pav'd  o'er  the  Hellespont, 
And  built  a  floating  bridge  upon't : 
Drove  chariots  o'er  by  this  device, 
As  coaches  ran  upon  the  ice. 
He  led  so  numberless  a  rout, 
As  at  one  meal  drank  rivers  out. 
This  tyrant  we  in  story  find, 
Was  us'd  to  whip  and  flog  the  wind  ; 
Their  jailor  Eolus  in  prison, 
Ne'er  forc'd  them  with  so  little  reason  : 
Nor  could  blue  Neptune's  godhead  save  him, 
But  he  with  fetters  must  enslave  him. 
Yet  after  all  these  roaring  freaks, 
Routed  and  broke  he  homeward  sneaks  : 
And  ferries  o'er  in  fishing-boat 
Through  shoals  of  carcases  afloat ; 
His  hopes  all  vanish'd,  bilked  of  all 
His  gaudy  dreams  :  see  pride's  just  fall. 

The  frequent  subject  of  our  prayers, 
Is  length  of  life  and  many  years  : 
But  what  incessant  plagues  "and  ills, 


*  The  greatest  street  in  Rome, 
t  The  Latin  is : 

I  demens  curre  per  Alpes. 
Ut  pueris  placeas,  et  declamatio  fias. 
Dryden  has  given  it  thus : 

Go,  climb  the  rugged  Alps,  ambitious  fool, 
To  please  the  boys,  and  be  a  theme  at  school. 


JOHN  B  UNCLE,  ESQ.  457 

The  gulph  of  age  with  mischief  fills  ! 
We  can  pronounce  none  happy,  none, 
Till  the  last  sand  of  life  be  run. 
Marius'  long  life  was  th'  only  reason, 
Of  exile  and  Minturnian  prison. 
Kind  fate  designing  to  befriend 
Great  Pompey,  did  a  fever  send, 
That  should  with  favourable  doom, 
Prevent  his  miseries  to  come  : 
But  nations  for  his  danger  griev'd, 
Make  public  prayers,  and  he's  reprieved  : 
Fate  then  that  honour' d  head  did  save, 
And  to  insulting  Caosar  gave. 
Tis  the  fond  mother's  constant  prayer, 
Her  children  may  be  passing  fair  : 
The  boon  they  beg  with  sighs  and  groans, 
Incessantly  on  marrow-bones. 
Yet  bright  Lucretia's  sullen  fate, 
Shews  fair  ones  are  not  fortunate. 
Virginia's  chance  may  well  confute  you, 
Good  luck  don't  always  wait  on  beauty. 

Let  not  your  wills  then  once  repine, 
Whate'er  the  gods  for  you  design. 
They  better  know  than  human  wit, 
What  does  our  exigence  befit. 
Their  wise  all-seeing  eyes  discern, 
And  give  what  best  suits  our  concern. 
We  blindly  harmful  things  implore, 
Which  they  refusing,  love  us  more. 

Shall  men  ask  nothing  then  ?     Be  wise, 
And  listen  well  to  sound  advice. 
Pray  only  that  in  body  sound, 
A  firm  and  constant  mind  be  found  : 
A  mind  no  fear  of  death  can  daunt, 
Nor  exile,  prison,  pains  nor  want ; 
That  justly  reckons  death  to  be 
Kind  author  of  our  liberty  : 
Banishing  passion  from  our  breast, 
Resting  content  with  what's  possest : 
That  ev'ry  honest  action  loves, 
And  great  Alcides'  toil  approves, 
Above  the  lusts,  feasts,  and  beds  of  down, 
Which  did  Sardanapalus  drown. 
This  mortals  to  themselves  may  give  ; 
Virtue's  the  happy  rule  to  live. 
Chance  bears  no  sway  where  wisdom  rules, 
An  empty  name  ador'd  by  fools. 
Folly  blind  Fortune  did  create, 
A  goddess,  and  to  heaven  translate.* 

*  As  I  had  not  room  for  all  the  tenth  Satire,  what  is  seen  here,  is  rather  an  abridgment 
than  an  entire  version.  The  whole  sense  of  the  author,  however,  is  preserved,  though  several 
of  his  examples  and  illustrations  are  left  out. 

Dr.  Burnet,  bishop  of  Salisbury,  thought  this  Satire  so  excellent  a  thing,  that  in  his  famous 
Pastoral  Letter  he  recommends  it,  and  the  Satire's  of  Persius,  to  the  perusal  and  practice  of  the 
divines  in  his  diocese,  as  the  best  common  places  for  their  sermons  ;  and  what  may  be  taught 
with  more  profit  to  the  audience,  than  all  the  new  speculations  of  divinity,  and  controversies 
concerning  faith ;  which  are  more  for  the  profit  of  the  shepherd,  than  for  the  edification 
of  the  flock.  In  the  Satires,  nothing  is  proposed  but  the  quiet  and  tranquillity  of  the  mind. 
Virtue  is  lodged  at  home,  as  Dry  den  expresses  it,  in  his  fine  dedication  to  the  Earl  of  Dorset, 
and  diffused  to  the  improvement  and  good  of  human  kind.  Passion,  interest,  ambition 


458  THE  LIFE  OF  JOHN  BUNGLE,  ESQ. 

mystery,  fury,  and  every  cruel  consequence,  are  banished  from  the  doctrine  of  these  stoics 
and  only  the  moral  virtues  inculcated  for  the  perfection  of  mankind. 

But  so  unreasonable  and  infatuated  are  our  shepherds,  too  many  of  them  I  mean,  that  a 
rational  Christian  cannot  go  to  church  without  being  shocked  at  the  absurd  and  impious 
work  of  their  pulpits.  In  town  and  country,  almost  every  Sunday,  those  bright  theolpgers 
are  for  ever  on  the  glories  of  trinity  in  unity,  and  teaching  their  poor  people  that  God  Almighty 
came  down  from  heaven  to  take  flesh  upon  him,  and  make  infinite  satisfaction  to  himself. 
This  is  the  cream  of  Christianity,  in  the  account  of  those  teachers.  The  moral  virtues  are 
nothing,  compared  to  a  man  or  a  woman's  swallowing  the  divine  mystery  of  an  incarnate 
God  Almighty.  Over  and  over  have  I  heard  a  thousand  of  them  on  this  holy  topic,  sweating 
and  drivelling  at  each  corner  of  their  mouths  with  eagerness  to  convert  the  world  to  their 
mysteries.  The  adorable  mystery !  says  one  little  priest,  in  my  neighbourhood  in  West- 
minster. The  more  incomprehensible  and  absurd  it  appears  to  human  reason,  the  greater 
honour  you  do  to  Heaven  in  believing  it,  says  another  wise  man  in  the  country.  But  tell 
me,  ye  excellent  divines,  tell  me  in  print  if  you  please,  if  it  would  not  be  doing  more  honour 
to  the  law  of  Heaven,  to  inform  the  people,  that  the  true  Christian  profession  is,  to  pray  to 
God  our  Father  for  grace,  mercy,  and  peace,  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  without  ever 
mentioning  the  Athanasian  scheme,  or  trinity  in  unity :  which  you  know  no  more  of  than 
so  many  pigs  do,  because  it  is  mere  invention,  and  not  to  be  found  in  the  Bible.  And 
in  the  next  place,  to  tell  your  flocks  in  serious  and  practical  address,  that  their  main  business 
is,  as  the  disciples  of  the  holy  Jesus,  a  good  life :  to  strive  against  sin  continually,  and  be 
virtuous  and  useful  to  the  utmost  of  our  power  ;  to  imitate  the  purity  and  goodness  of  their 
great  master  the  Author  of  eternal  salvation  to  all  them  that  obey  him,  and  by  repentance 
and  holiness  of  heart,  in  a  patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  make  it  the  labour  of  their 
every  day,  to  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  hi  this  present  world :  you  must  become 
partakers  of  a  divine  nature,  having  escaped  the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world  through 
lust,  and  by  acquiring  the  true  principles  of  Christian  perfection,  render  yourselves  fit  for  the 
heavenly  bliss :  This,  my  dearly  beloved  brethren,  is  the  great  design  of  Christ  and  his 
gospel.  You  must  receive  Jesus  Christ  as  your  Saviour  and  Mediator,  you  must  be  exercised 
unto  godliness,  and  have  the  ways  of  God  in  your  hearts.  By  a  course  of  obedience  and 
patience,  you  must  follow  the  captain  of  our  salvation  to  his  glory. 

To  this  purpose,  I  say,  our  clergy  ought  to  preach ;  and  if  in  so  saying,  they  think  me 
wrong,  I  call  upon  them  to  tell  me  so  in  print,  by  argument ;  that  I  may  either  publicly 
acknowledge  a  mistaken  judgment ;  or  prove,  that  too  many  ministers  mislead  Christian 
people  in  the  article  of  faith  and  practice.  By  the  strict  rules  of  Christian  simplicity  and 
integrity,  I  shall  ever  act. 

THE  END. 


Butler  &  Tanner,  The  Selwood  Printing  Works,  Frome,  and  London. 


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